THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


DR.   MUM  BUDGET'S  DOOR-PLATK. 


THE    SOCK    STOKIES, 


BY  "AUNT  FANNY'S"  DAUGHTER. 


FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS: 


THE  FIFTH  BOOK   OF   THE    SEEKS. 


BY 

"AUNT   FANNY'S"    DAUGHTER, 

THE  AUTIIOB  OF   "THE  LITTLE  WHITE  ANGEL." 


NEW  YORK: 

LEAVITT   &   ALLEN,   21    &   23   MERCER  ST. 

1863. 


EirrEBED,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1862,  by 

8.   L.  BARROW, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  tha 
Southern  District  of  New  York. 


JOHN  F.  TROW, 

PRISTIE,  SWBOTYFEB,  AMD  ELICT»OTTTI«, 
60  Greene  Street,  New  York. 


AlFJt 


TO 

THAT  GENIAL  GOOD  MAN 
AND      PROFOUND      PHILOSOPHER, 

THE  REV.  DR.  S.  I.  PRIME, 

I    DEDICATE    THIS 

BOOK. 


€22807 


CONTENTS  OF  YOL,  Y. 


MM 

STORM  STORIES, 7 

THE  CABBAGES, 42 

THE  GOLD  STONE, 75 

THE  PHILOSOPHERS'  TOUR,     ....      108 


STORM    STORIES. 

FIRST   EVENING. 

How  it  did  rain,  to  be  sure !  Up 
the  long  street,  and  down  the  long 
street  nothing  was  to  be  seen  but  large 
mud  puddles,  while  the  gutter  ran  like 
a  little  river,  and  gushed  with  a  loud 
sound  into  the  sewer  mouth. 

That  was  a  rain  indeed!  but  in 
the  warm  rooms  it  was  comfortable 
enough.  Books  and  pretty  pictures 
lined  the  walls  on  all  sides  but  one, 
where  the  large  window  was,  the  re-r 


8  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

cess  filled  with  blooming  flowers ;  they 
smelt  so  sweetly ! 

There,  at  a  table  that  was  covered 
with  a  green  cloth,  sat  a  literary  man. 
His  head  was  bowed  upon  his  arms, 
and  when  he  raised  his  face,  one  saw 
that  he  was  so  sad  and  pale !  The 
poor  literary  man  was  quite  unhappy. 

If  one  could  have  crept  into  his 
heart  (like  him  who  owned  the  "  Ga- 
loshes of  Fortune  "),  one  would  have 
seen  that  his  thoughts  ran,  "  Ah  me ! 
how  unhappy  I  am.  I  write  books 
about  the  good  and  the  beautiful,  but 
nobody  buys  them ;  no  one  cares  to 
read  of  such  things.  If  I  could  but 
tell  them  a  tale,  now,  something  lively 
or  pathetic,  like  the  poet  Baggesen  or 
our  own  Hoffman,  that  they  all  like. 


STORM  STORIES.  9 

Nay,  then,  what  a  weary  life  it  is ! " 
and  lie  leaned  back  in  his  arm  chair, 
and  closed  his  eyes. 

Suddenly,  something  came  hissing 
down  the  chimney  into  the  stove.  It 
was  two  or  three  rain  drops  driven  in 
by  the  wind.  Something  else  appeared 
to  have  entered  with  them,  for  there 
was  a  rustle  and  breeze  in  the  cham- 
ber, and  then  the  literary  man  heard 
a  whisper  quite  close  to  his  ear. 

"Thou  silly  fellow!"  cried  the 
wind,  for  that  it  was,  "to  sit  in  thy 
chamber  with  closed  doors,  wraiting 
for  the  story  to  come  to  thee  !  Nay, 
then,  what  is  there  in  thy  books  half 
so  clever  or  amusing  as  what  one  sees 
in  real  life  ?  Listen,  now,  and  I  will 
tell  thee  what  I  saw  one  moonlight 


10  FUNNY.  BIG  SOCKS. 

night  as  I  blew  over  this  wide  German 
land/' 

THE  STORY  OF  THE  WIND. 

IN  summer,  all  the  world — of  Leip- 
sic — goes  out  of  town,  to  Baden  or 
Ems.  Those  who  can  afford  it  run 
over  the  Alps,  to  sunny  Italy ;  but  in 
winter — ah !  then  it  is  very  different ! 

One  is  glad  enough,  then,  to  re- 
main at  home  by  the  warm  stove ;  or 
if  one  goes  out,  one  must  be  well 
wrapped  up  in  furs  and  cloaks. 

The  little  boys  slide  and  skate  on 
the  frozen  river ;  the  poorer  folks  go 
about  in  sledges,  and  the  rich  in  splen- 
did sleighs,  with  white  fur  robes  and 
capering  horses,  which  have  little 
bells  tied  to  their  manes  and  tails. 


STORM  STORIES.  11 

Just  such  a  sleigh  as  this  stood,  one 
bright  moonlight  night,  before  the  door 
of  the  Burgomaster  Yon  Geirstein,  in 
the  good  town  of  Leipsic.  The  whole 
family  were  going  in  a  body  out  of 
town,  and  now  the  hall  door  opened, 
and  forth  came  the  fat  and  stupid 
Burgomaster  himself,  with  his  fat  and 
silly  wife  on  his  arm,  followed  by  their 
pretty,  blue-eyed  daughter,  Matilda, 
and  her  lover,  Walther  Von  Blumen- 
wald,  a  thriving  young  merchant. 
Her  brother,  Max,  came  last,  a  merry, 
good-natured  young  fellow,  but  who, 
certainly,  was  not  very  wise. 

Max  took  the  driver's  place ;  the 
others  seated  themselves  within  the 
large  sleigh,  and  tucked  the  warm  fur 
robes  around  them,  and  then,  with  a 


12  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

crack  of  the  whip,  and  a  loud  huzzah 
from  the  young  men,  the  sleigh  glided 
swiftly  away. 

!  About  five  miles  from  the  town,  in 
the  midst  of  the  forest,  was  a  large  inn 
of  the  better  sort,  which  had  lately 
become  a  favorite  resort  of  the 
wealthy  who  went  sleighing  in  the 
winter.  Balls,  even,  were  given  there, 
and  there  one  got  the  most  delicious 
mulled  wine  and  Westphalia  hams,  and 
all  sorts  of  ale,  "  Bremen,"  "  Prysing/' 
"  Emser  ale,"  even  "  Brunswick  Mum- 
me."  To  this  hotel,  then,  our  party 
were  bound. 

Merrily  rang  the  bells,  swiftly  flew 
the  sleigh  over  the  frozen  snow,  and 
as  they  passed  out  at  the  city  gates,  the 
whole  party  broke  into  a  joyous  glee : 


STORM  STOKIES.  13 

"  Listen,  listen,  listen  to  the  merry  sleigh  bells  ! 
How  they  jingle,  jingle,  ever  blithe  and  ever  clear, 

"With  a  tintinnabulation  that  so  musically  wells 
As  it  thrills,  and  it  thrills  upon  the  ear  ! 
Every  dancing  little  note 
Seems  to  gurgle  from  the  throat 

Of  a  bird,  that  in  its  happy  song  so  eloquently  tells 
The  joy  it  is  to  bound 
O'er  the  cold  and  frozen  ground, 

To  the  ringing  and  the  clinging  of  the  bells  ! 

"  Listen,  listen,  listen  to  the  merry  sleigh  bells  ! 

How  they  jingle,  jingle,  as  the  horses  dash  along ; 
What  a  story  of  our  gladness  their  enticing  music  tells 
As  it  chimes  and  it  rhymes  with  the  song ! 

Such  a  rollicking  delight 

Bubbles  out  upon  the  night 
As  their  joy -creating  burthen  over  hill  and  valley  swells. 

Every  voice  must  join  the  tune 

As  we  skim  beneath  the  moon 
To  the  tinkling  and  the  twinkling  of  the  bells  !  " 

The  sleigh  had  now  turned  out  of 
the  high  road,  and  entered  the  forest. 


14  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

For  some  time  the  way  lay  plain  be- 
fore them,  but  at  length  came  a  fork, 
where  two  roads  met. 

"Now,  then,"  exclaimed  Max, 
"  which  way  ?  Blumenwald,  thou 
hast  been  to  Ole's  before — must  I  take 
the  right  hand  or  the  left  ?  " 

"  Upon  my  word,  I  have  forgot- 
ten !  "  exclaimed  Walther.  "  It  was 
a  dark  night  when  I  drove  out  with 
my  cousins ;  but,  it  appears  to  me, 
upon  the  whole,  that  we  took  the 
right  hand  road." 

"Well,  we  can  only  try,"  said 
Max;  "at  least,  if  we  don't  get  to 
Ole's,  we  shall  have  had  a  merry  sleigh 
ride." 

He  shook  the  reins,  and  the  impa- 
tient horses  darted  off;  but,  my  stars! 


STOKM  STORIES.  15 

they  had  taken  the  wrong  road! 
Deeper  grew  the  wood ;  the  roughness 
of  the  path  momentarily  increased ; 
the  trees  became  so  thick  that  the 
moonlight  no  longer  penetrated  them, 
and  Max  at  length  stopped  his  horses 
once  more,  and  gazed  around  him  in 
bewilderment. 

"  Potstausend ! "  exclaimed  the 
Burgomaster;  "where  has  the  boy 
taken  us  ?  I  tell  you  what,  mein  sonne, 
thou  hadst  best  turn  back,  for  we 
shall  never  get  to  Ole's  to-night." 

"  And  thy  sister  will  take  her  death 
of  cold ! "  cried  the  Frau  Yon  Geir- 
stein,  while  Walther  looked  anxiously 
at  the  fair  Matilda,  who  only  smiled 
up  at  him,  and  drew  her  fur-lined 
hood  more  closely  about  her  face. 


16  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

Just  as  they  were  about  to  turn 
back,  they  heard  a  sound  of  sleigh- 
bells  behind,  and  presently  a  small 
sleigh  approached  them,  drawn  by  a 
spirited  horse. 

Max,  without  more  ado,  hailed  the 
stranger,  and  begged  him  to  set  them, 
if  he  could,  on  the  road  to  Ole's. 

The  new  comer  bowed  courteously 
to  the  ladies,  and  replied,  "  I  shall  be 
most  happy  to  direct  you  thither,  my 
respectable  friends.  In  short,  then, 
you  follow  the  road  before  you  for  a 
time,  then  turn  to  your  right;  next, 
pursue  your  way  in  a  southeast  direc- 
tion for  a  mile  ;  next,  turn  toward  the 
northwest,  and  then ' 

"  What,  sir !  "  interrupted  Max, 
"do  you  suppose  we  can  go  to  all 


STORM  STORIES.  17 

points  of  the  compass  at  once  ?  What 
do  you  mean  by  your  northwest  and 
southeast  ?  " 

"  Potstausend  !  is  the  fellow  mak- 
ing fun  of  us  ?  "  exclaimed  the  Burgo- 
master. 

"Surely  the  Herr  Von  Geirstein 
cannot  suppose  I  would  be  guilty  of 
so  great  an  impertinence !  "  exclaimed 
the  stranger.  "  It  is  true,  the  road  is 
somewhat  obscure ;  may  I  not  also 
have  the  pleasure  of  driving  you  to 
Ole's?" 

"We  thank  you — you  aro  most 
kind/'  replied  the  mollified  Burgomas- 
ter, who  never  doubted  for  a  moment 
that  his  vast  importance  caused  him 
to  be  known  to  all  the  world ;  "  but 
what  will  become  of  your  sledge  ?  " 

v.— 2 


18  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  fear  for  the  sledge — 
that  can  remain  here  among  the  un- 
derwood ;  and  my  horse  can  be  at- 
tached in  front  of  yours/' 

This  arrangement  was  soon  effect- 
ed, and  the  stranger,  who  was  so 
muffled  up  in  fur  cap  and  coat,  that 
scarcely  a  feature  could  be  distin- 
guished, mounted  beside  Max,  and 
seized  the  reins. 

Donnerwetter  !  how  he  shouted  at 
the  horses !  cracking  his  whip,  and 
calling  them  all  manner  of  strange 
names.  "Now,  then,  pig  with  a 
wooden  head !  Get  along  with  you, 
toad  of  serpents  !  To  the  mischief  with 
the  whole  team  !  "  till  the  foam  flew 
on  all  sides,  the  iron-clad  heels  of  the 
steeds  rang  like  hammer  upon  anvil 


STORM  STORIES.  19 

on  the  frozen  ground,  and  sparks 
scintillated  in  the  air ! 

Meanwhile,  however,  the  effect  of 
this  rapid  motion  on  the  Burgomas- 
ter's family  was  anything  but  exhilar- 
ating. Now  that  the  bustle  of  setting 
out  was  at  an  end,  they  one  and  all 
began  to  feel  afraid  of  their  strange 
guide,  and  to  think  there  was  some- 
thing more  than  common  in  their  ad- 
venture. 

"He's  a  very  odd-looking  man, 
after  all,"  whispered  the  Burgomas- 
ter's wife;  "how  do  we  know  what 
sort  of  a  fellow  he  is,  and  if  he  is  tak- 
ing us  to  Ole's  at  all  ?  I,  for  my  part, 
believe  he's  in  league  with  some  rob- 
ber band,  and  we  shall  all  be  mur- 
dered." 


20  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

"  Potstausend !  it  looks  very  much 
like  it !  "  exclaimed  the  Burgomaster, 
who,  although  so  big  a  man,  was 
mighty  chicken-hearted.  "  I  wish 
Max  had  not  been  so  confoundedly 
hasty  in  accepting  his  advice." 

"  I  beg  thy  pardon  there,  father- 
in-law,"  returned  Walther;  "it  was 
thou  who  bade  him  come  in." 

The  Burgomaster  was  about  to 
make  some  peppery  reply,  when  Max 
suddenly  broke  upon  the  whispered 
conversation  by  exclaiming : 

"  Since  you  are  so  good,  sir,  as  to 
drive  us,  perhaps  you  will  inform  us 
to  whom  we  are  obliged." 

But  the  stranger,  who,  before  this, 
had  been  the  noisiest  of  the  party,  ap- 


STORM  STORIES.  21 

peared  to  have  become  suddenly 
dumb,  for  he  answered  not  a  word. 

"Come,  sir/'  repeated  Walther; 
"  tell  us  who  you  are." 

No  answer. 

Max  now  half  jumped  from  his 
seat,  exclaiming,  "  But  we  insist  on 
knowing,  sir,  and,  furthermore,  I 
should  like  to  know  if  you  are  taking 
us  to  Ole's  or  not." 

The  stranger  turned  at  this,  and 
with  a  smile  that  displayed  his  glitter- 
ing teeth,  replied : 

"My  good  people,  I  am  taking 
you  just  where  you  are  destined  to 
go.  As  to  my  name,  that  is  my  affair. 
Remember,  your  safety  depends  on 
me;  certainly,  you  had  better  not 
provoke  me,  or "  here  his  speech 


22  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

suddenly  came  to  an  end,  and  a  fresh 
series  of  yells  followed  to  the  excited 
horses,  which  all  this  time  were  tearing 
along  as  though  a  troop  of  fiends  were 
in  pursuit. 

"  It  must  be  the  Evil  One  himself!  " 
cried  the  Burgomaster,  trembling  in 
every  limb,  while  the  ladies  screamed 
and  clung  together. 

"  Not  quite  so  bad  as  that,  I  hope," 
said  Walther,  half  laughing,  yet  ex- 
cited, and,  to  tell  the  truth,  somewhat 
alarmed  also. 

"  We  are  all  fools  if  we  allow  this 
thing  to  go  on ! "  shouted  Max,  who 
had  suddenly  recovered  his  spirits. 
"  Walther,  thou  wilt  stand  by  me. 
Give  me  the  reins,  sir,  or  hold  them 
longer  at  your  peril !  " 


STORM  STORIES.  23 

As  he  spoke,  he  endeavored  to 
seize  the  reins,  while  Walther  stood 
up  in  the  sleigh  and  grasped  the  whip. 

All  at  once  the  stranger  let  fall  the 
reins,  and  as  they  trailed  on  the 
ground,  he  snatched  the  whip  from 
Walther's  hand,  gave  a  sudden  leap 
into  the  air,  and  vaulted  on  the  back 
of  the  near  horse,  where  he  sat  at 
ease,  and  drove  postillion,  without 
their  being  able  to  help  themselves. 

"  Alas,  we  have  no  arms !  "  groaned 
the  Burgomaster ;  "we  may  as  well 
be  resigned  to  our  fate.  Kiss  me,  my 
children ;  you  may  never  kiss  your  old 
papa  again ! n 

On  this,  the  whole  quartette  fell  to 
weeping,  blowing  their  noses  most 
earnestly  from  time  to  time,  when, 


BIG  aOQDL 

just  as  their  grief  was  at  its  height, 
and  they  were  fairly  sobbing  in  each 
others  arms,  a  sound  of  music  broke 
upon  their  ears!  The  next  moment 
lights  gleamed  through  the  trees,  the 
sleigh  took  a  sharp  turn,  passed 
through  an  open  gate,  and  drew  up 
before  the  very  door  of— Ole's !  For, 
in  reality,  both  roads  led  to  the  inn, 
although  one  was  much  more  in- 
tricate and  less  frequented  than  the 
other. 

The  Yon  Geirsteins  were  for  a  mo- 
ment too  much  astounded  to  speak. 
Then  the  mysterious  driver,  swinging 
himself  lightly  off  his  horse,  and  doff- 
ing his  fur  cap,  showing  them  a  face 
not  only  handsome,  but  perfectly  fa- 
miliar to  them  exclaimed : 


STORM  STORIES.  25 

"  Ton  see,  my  dear  friends,  that  it 

•/ 

was  neither  a  bandit  nor  His  Satanic 
Majesty  who  drove  yon  by  the  nearest 
road  to  a  robber's  castle  or  the  lower 
regions,  but  yonr  very  good  neighbor, 
Fritz  Yon  Eisenfeldt,  who  has  had  at 
once  the  pleasure  and  amusement  of 
taking  you  safe  and  sound  to  Ole's, 
after  all!" 

As  the  wind  uttered  these  last 
words,  it  whisked  up  the  chimney  and 
disappeared.  The  literary  man  sat 
upright  in  his  chair  with  a  sudden 
start,  and  opened  his  eyes  wide. 

"  Good  heavens !  "  he  cried,  "  have 
I  been  dreaming,  or  has  the  wind 
really  related  the  tale?"  He  could 
not  at  afl  tell  this,  but  he  remembered 
every  word  of  the  story,  and  wrote  it 


26  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

on — yes!    this   very  piece   of  paper, 
where  you  now  read  it ! 


SECOND    EVENING. 

THE  following  evening  the  literary 
man  could  not  but  think  of  the  advice 
of  the  wind.  He  went  to  the  window, 
and  looked  out  on  the  street,  to  see  if 
there  might  not  be  a  story  there. 

The  houses  opposite  were  as  hand- 
some as  on  this  side  of  the  way,  and 
exactly  like  them;  the  gas  lamps 
burned  brilliantly,  and  everything  ap- 
peared as  genteel  and  stupid  as  could 
possibly  be  conceived.  "  There's  not  a 
story  to  be  met  with  in  this  part  of  the 
town,"  thought  the  literary  man.  "  I 


STORM  STORIES.  27 

must  go  out,  and  see  if  I  can  find  one 
elsewhere." 

The  snow  flakes  were  rapidly  fall- 
ing from  the  sky,  but  the  literary  man 
wrapped  his  warm  cloak  around  him, 
and  went  bravely  out.  It  is  not  every 
one  who  has  courage  to  go  out  in  the 
snow !  that  is,  the  snow  at  Friedrichs- 
hafen.  It  is  sure  to  be  so  wet  and 
cold,  with  large  bits  of  icy  hail  among 
it,  covering  the  ground  with  a  slippery 
compound,  that  one  cannot  step  upon 
without  danger  of  falling. 

However,  out  he  went,  and  slipped 
and  scrambled  along  the  pavement. 
Kribbedy,  krabbledy,  plump !  down 
he  sat  on  a  neighbor's  doorstep ;  not 
without  exclaiming,  "  Potstausend !  " 

As  he  sat  there  with  a  rueful  coun- 


28  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

tenance,  the  thought  passed  through 
his  mind,  "  If,  now,  the  wind  would  but 
give  rne  the  least  idea  how  to  begin,  I 
might  compose  a  tale  while  1  wait  for 
a  hackney  coach,  for  walk  I  won't !  " 
and  he  looked  up  and  down  the  street, 
but  no  coach  came  in  sight. 

All  at  once  it  was  as  though  a 
merry  voice  whispered  in  his  ear — 
yes,  the  literary  man  felt  sure  that  the 
snow  said  to  him  "  S-o-o !  my  good 
friend,  the  wind  has  sent  thee  to  me ! 
Fie  upon  thee,  that  thou  canst  not 
compose  a  tale  without  help,  for  all 
thy  learning!  Well,  pay  attention, 
and  I  will  tell  thee  some  of  the  frolics 
of  my  merry  cousin,  the  Frost.  Now, 
listen." 

And  the  literary  man  listened  with 


STORM  STORIES.  29 

all  his  ears,  and  quite  forgot  that  he 
was  looking  for  a  hackney  coach,  and 
that  he  was  sitting  on  the  steps  of  his 
neighbor,  the  Herr  Hartman. 

THE   STORY  OF   THE   SNOW,   ABOUT 
CAPTAIN    JACK. 

THE  children  were  hurrying  home- 
ward on  a  cold  winter's  evening,  from 
the  forest,  where  they  had  been  bind- 
ing fagots.  As  they  scampered  along, 
some  one  seized  upon  them  from  be- 
hind and  nipped  their  ears  sharply. 
"  Fie,  ugly  Captain  Jack  !  "  cried  they ; 
"  so  thou  art  at  work  again !  one  may 
easily  see  that !  "  and  they  would  have 
pursued  their  spiteful  enemy ;  but  he 
was  already  gone,  and  they  were  now 
obliged  to  hasten  onward. 


30  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

% 

Captain  Jack  had  slipped  back  to 
the  forest,  and  thrown  himself  stealth- 
ily on  the  ground,  laughing  to  see 
their  discomfiture.  The  moon  shone 
on  the  spot  where  he  lay,  and  then  all 
the  dried  grass  appeared  white  and 
sparkling,  as  though  it  were  covered 
with  glistening  spray.  At  one  moment 
one  saw  him  lying  gazing  at  one  with 
laughing  eyes ;  the  next,  it  seemed  as 
though  only  the  hoar  dew  rested 
there,  and  glittered  in  the  moon- 
light. 

"  Bur-r-r ! "  growled  the  north  wind, 
as  he  flew  through  the  forest.  "  Hol- 
lo !  Captain  Jack ;  many  thanks  for 
the  Ice  King's  message  which  thou 
broughtest  me.  Come,  wilt  thou  ride 
on  my  back  in  return  ?  " 


STORM  STORIES.  31 

"  Many  thanks !  "  replied  Captain 
Jack ;  "  I  prefer  to  travel  on  foot,  and 
amuse  myself  by  the  way." 

"  Well,  be  that  as  thou  wilt !  "  re- 
plied the  wind,  and  he  flew  off  in  a 
huff;  for  he  considered  that  he  had 
made  a  very  honorable  offer,  and  had 
been  slighted. 

But  Captain  Jack  ran  gayly  from 
the  forest;  taking  long  strides  over 
the  grass,  and  sowing  it  with  little 
white  pearls,  breathing  on  the  bare 
branches  of  the  trees,  and  sheathing 
them  in  glittering  mail,  pouncing  slyly 
on  stray  wayfarers,  and  pinching  their 
ears  and  noses  till  they  roared  again  ! 
Then  Captain  Jack  laughed  ;  it  sound- 
ed like  the  sharp  crack  of  a  pistol 
through  the  still  air. 


32  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

By  the  banks  of  the  river  hares 
were  creeping,  and  complaining  bitter- 
ly of  the  cold.  "  Ah !  "  said  they,  "  if 
we  could  but  find  a  warm  hole  to 
creep  into,  or  if  we  had  but  thick, 
curly  coats,  like  the  bears !  " 

"Do  you  think  I  have  a  warm 
coat  to  give  any  one  ?  "  quoth  Captain 
Jack,  and  he  breathed  on  their  long- 
whiskers,  which  now  stood  quite 
stiffly.  "  Oh  hute-tute-tute-tu  !  "  cried 
they,  hopping  up  and  down  with 
pain ;  "  oh  my  toes !  my  poor  toes !  " 

Captain  Jack  also  danced  with 
merriment ;  he  had  neither  soul  nor 
feeling,  and  couldn't  understand  being 
sorry  for  any  one. 

Over  the  river,  the  lights  of  the 
town  were  gleaming.  They  shone  like 


STOEM  STORIES.  33 

stars  that  had  stooped  a  little  lower 
from  heaven.  Captain  Jack  skipped 
lightly  across  the  waves  rolling  so 
softly  from  shore  to  shore,  and  as  he 
passed,  the  water  smoothed  out  under 
his  feet;  it  was  as  though  some  one 
had  placed  upon  it  a  thin  sheet  of 
glass. 

He  ran  through  the  silent  streets, 
of  the  town,  where  all  the  world  had 
gone  to  sleep,  and  peered  in  at  many 
casements.  Sometimes  he  beheld  the 
good  folks  dreaming,  with  the  hard, 
ugly  frown  still  on  their  faces  which 
they  had  worn  when  they  were 
awake ;  and  then  he  slipped  into  the 
room — yes,  a  key  hole  was  large 
enough  for  him  to  creep  through  if  he 
chose!  and  breathed  upon  them  so, 
y  -3 


34:  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

f* 

that  they  shivered  in  their  beds,  in 
spite  of  the  warm  eider  down  they 
had  tucked  around  them.  "  The  win- 
dow was  open  on  a  crack,"  they 
would  say  on  the  following  day ;  but 
it  needed  not  a  crack  for  Captain  Jack 
to  enter  if  he  thought  they  deserved 
it! 

In  other  chambers  he  beheld  lovely 
little  children,  with  the  faces  of  an- 
gels ;  or  venerable  grandsires,  with 
their  snowy  hair  floating  over  the  pil- 
low, and  then  he  drew  the  most  beau- 
tiful pictures  on  the  window  pane,  to 
amuse  them  when  they  should  wake. 
He  crept  slyly  into  the  larders  of 
thrifty  housewives,  and,  with  a  touch, 
made  chickens  and  ducks  hanging 
there,  quite  stiff  and  tasteless;  he 


STOEM  STORIES.  35 

skipped  to  the  cistern,  and  magically 
rendered  the  puinp  handle  immov- 
able ;  he  ran  about  the  streets  and 
played  tricks  with  the  bright  gas 
lamps,  and  they  went  out,  as  though  a 
puff  of  wind  had  blown  over  them. 
And,  last  of  all,  he  ran  against  a  stout 
Burgomaster,  returning  homeward 
from  a  merry  supper,  and  so  pinched 
the  end  of  his  red  bottle-nose,  that  it 
tingled  again ! 

"Til  have  you  taken  to  prison, 
you  scoundrel ! "  roared  the  Burgo- 
master ;  but  how  was  he  to  find  Cap- 
tain Jack?  Only  where  a  large  fire 
was  raging  did  Captain  Jack  shrink 
away  in  haste  ;  heat  did  not  seem  to 
agree  with  him,  for  he  looked  strange- 
ly small  and  shrunken. 


36  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

He  was  now  weary  of  the  city,  and 
hastened  lightly  to  the  seaside.  In  the 
harbor  ships  lay  at  anchor,  ice-bound ; 
and  on  one  of  these  a  young  sailor 
was  keeping  watch  for  thieves ;  but  he 
saw  not  Captain  Jack  coming  softly 
on  board,  and  peering  over  his  shoul- 
der to  see  what  was  written  on  the 
paper  he  held  in  his  hand.  A  lantern 
hung  from  the  mast  and  shed  a  feeble 
light  on  the  tear-blistered  page,  wrhere 
the  pious  mother  implored  a  blessing 
on  her  son.  As  he  read,  the  young 
sailor  also  wept;  but  Captain  Jack 
had  no  taste  for  tears.  He  breathed 
on  the  letter,  and  the  sparkling  drops 
that  the  reader  let  fall  became  beads 
of  ice.  The  sailor  hastily  turned,  and 
for  a  moment  fancied  he  beheld  the 


STOKM  STORIES.  37 

brilliant  eyes  of  Captain  Jack  gazing 
upon  him ;  but  the  next  instant  he  saw 
only  two  glittering  icicles,  which  had 
formed  on  the  ropes. 

The  sea  gulls  flew  in  circles  round 
the  vessel;  late  as  it  was,  they  still 
hoped  something  might  be  thrown  out. 
Captain  Jack  caught  them  by  the  long 
feathers  of  their  wings,  and  they  tum- 
bled on  the  deck,  and  hopped  stiffly 
about.  "  Creesh,  creesh !  "  cried  they ; 
"  it  is  that  villain,  Captain  Jack,  who 
has  served  us  thus !  Ugh !  how  stiff 
we  are ! " 

Crick,  crack  !  sounded  through  the 
air.  It  was  Captain  Jack  laughing  at 
them. 

"  How  merry  it  is  in  winter !  "  he 
cried.  "  It  is  there  my  uncle,  the  Ice 


38  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

King,  holds  his  court  in  the  palace  at 
the  North  Pole.  The  great  icebergs 
come  crashing  to  the  very  door  to  do 
him  homage,  and  the  white  young 
lady  bears  dance  the  Polonaise  so 
gracefully !  We  don't  spend  a  moment 
in  silly  thought  about  anything — no  ! 
we  frisk  and  caper  about,  and  even 
my  uncle  comes  down  from  his  throne 
and  hops  around,  as  well  as  his  age 
will  permit !  and  there  I  have  such 
glorious  sport  in  the  long  moonlight 
nights !  " 

"  Bur-r-r ! "  grumbled  the  north 
wind,  sweeping  by.  "  Thou  hadst  bet- 
ter hurry  home,  thou  silly  madcap ! 
The  sun  is  coming,  and  he  is  no  friend 
of  thine!" 

"  Many   thanks !  "    cried    Captain 


STOKM  STORIES.  39 

Jack  again,  with  a  graceful  bow; 
"  I  see,  truly,  that  my  sport  is  over  for 
to-nio-ht !  "  and  he  now  looked  about 

o 

him  with  mischievous  eyes,  to  see  if 
there  were  not  some  last  trick  that  he 
could  play  before  he  fled  to  his  forest 
cave.  But  there  was  no  time  to  lose, 
for  already  the  round  red  sun,  winking 
and  blinking  sleepily  behind  his  bed 
curtains  of  red  clouds,  was  rising  from 
the  sea ;  and,  with  a  sudden  leap,  Cap- 
tain Jack  flung  himself  off  the  ship, 
and  hastened  away. 

The  river  was  all  covered  with 
ice ;  the  little  hares  skipped  over  it ; 
in  the  town  everybody  was  bawling 
for  water,  and  the  pump  handles  were 
hard  and  fast;  the  Burgomaster  had 
his  nose  tied  up  in  brown  paper  and 


4:0  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

warm  vinegar;  the  naughty  people 
went  about  with  cricks  in  their  necks 
and  colds  in  their  heads ;  while  every 
withered  grass  blade,  every  branch  of 
tree  and  bush,  and  every  pane  in  the 
windows,  was  covered  with  the  beau- 
tiful, fantastic,  glittering  handiwork 
of  CAPTAIN  JACK  FROST  ! 

As  the  story  ended,  the  door  above 
suddenly  opened,  and  the  Herr  Hart- 
man  himself  came  out ;  and  certainly 
looked  somewhat  surprised  at  seeing 
Ms  good  friend  sitting  there  on  the 
lower  step. 

"  Why,  my  dear  Herr  Ekstein !  " 
he  exclaimed.  "  Is  anything  the  mat- 
ter ?  "  and  he  hastened  down  the  steps. 

The  literary  man  jumped  up,  and 
saw  the  Herr  holding  out  his  hand. 


STORM  STORIES.  41 

"  Nay,  then,  my  good  friend !  "  he 
exclaimed,  "  I  have  been  hearing  the 
merriest  tale ! " 

'But  come  in!  come  in!"  cried 
the  Herr  Hartman.  "  Some  of  our 
friends  are  with  us ;  let  us  spend  a  so- 
ciable evening  together." 

With  a  pleased  and  happy  face  the 
literary  man  entered  the  house,  and 
the  warm  room,  where  the  company 
were  assembled;  and,  amid  peals  of 
laughter,  related  both  the  story  of 
Captain  Jack,  and  that  of  the  sleigh- 
ride  to  Ole's,  with  the  deuse  himself 
as  driver ! 


THE   CABBAGES; 

OR,    THE     DISCREET     WIFE. 

IN  a  remote  part  of  Swabia  there 
once  dwelt  a  rich  peasant,  who  was 
noted  in  all  the  neighborhood  for  his 
shrewdness.  No  one  could  get  the 
better  of  him  in  a  bargain,  and  no 
man  managed  his  farm  with  such  ex- 
traordinary success.  His  crops  always 
seemed  to  flourish  when  the  whole 
country  round  was  desolated  with  the 
blight ;  his  hay  was  sure  to  be  got  in 
the  very  night  before  a  flood  swept 


THE  CABBAGES.  43 

away  the  ricks  of  his  neighbors ;  his 
cows  gave  the  most  milk,  his  oxen 
were  the  fattest,  and  his  fields  the 
most  fruitful  of  the  whole  valley.  In 
short,  Wise  Peter,  for  so  he  was 
called,  became  wealthy  year  after 
year,  in  a  way  which  made  his  less 
fortunate  neighbors  shake  their  heads 
enviously,  declaring  "that  such  mar- 
vellous good  luck  could  only  be  ob- 
tained by  a  bargain  with  the  Evil  One, 
or  the  assistance  of  gnomes."  When- 
ever any  of  these  stories  came  to  the 
ears  of  Wise  Peter,  he  would  smile 
and  say,  "  Ah !  who  knows,  indeed !  " 
but  not  a  word  more  would  he  utter. 

Among  his  other  possessions,  Wise 
Peter  owned  an  immense  field,  which 
was  planted  entirely  with  cabbages. 


44  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

If  one  stood  in  the  middle  and  gazed 
around,  nothing  but  cabbages  and 
more  cabbages  grew,  as  far  as  the  eye 
could  reach ;  and  as  the  fat  burghers 
of  the  town  were  all  extremely  fond 
of  sauerkraut,  these  were  a  source 
of  great  profit. 

It  happened  that  Peter  had  a  wife 
as  well  known  for  her  folly  and  empty 
head,  as  her  husband  for  his  sagacity  ; 
and  as  he  was  rightly  named  Wise 
Peter,  so  was  she  equally  well  called 
Silly  Catharine.  How  the  two  came 
to  be  united  was  a  mystery  to  every 
one  ;  for  certain  it  is,  that  Silly  Cath- 
arine had  nothing  to  recommend  her 
to  a  sensible  man,  but  her  being  young 
and  pretty. 

Now  Silly  Catharine,  who  was  as 


THE  CABBAGES.  45 

witless  as  she  could  well  be,  was  fonder 
of  cabbages  than  anything  else  in  the 
world.  She  ate  sauerkraut  for  break- 
fast, cabbage  soup  for  dinner,  fried 
cabbage  for  supper,  and  boiled  cab- 
bage for  a  noonday  treat.  Not  even 
the  constant  scoldings  of  her  husband, 
or  the  jeers  of  the  neighbors  at  her 
folly,  could  distress  her  in  any  great 
degree,  if  she  had  only  plenty  of  cab- 
bages. 

One  morning,  Wise  Peter  loaded 
his  wagon  with  grain  and  started  off 
to  sell  it  at  the  distant  market  town, 
a  good  day's  journey  to  and  from  the 
village.  "  Now,  Catharine/''  he  said  to 
his  wife  as  he  departed,  "  I  want  you 
to  keep  your  wits  about  you,  such  as 
you  possess,  while  I  am  gone ;  there- 


46  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

fore  attend  to  me.  You  must  give  or- 
ders that  the  men  reap  the  wheat  in 
the  large  field,  take  care  that  the 
young  turkeys  do  not  get  among  the 
brambles,  and,  above  all,  see  that  no 
one  enters  the  little  storeroom.  They 
are  going  to  tax  every  one  who  is 
worth  five  hundred  guilders  and  over ; 
and  as  I  don't  choose  to  give  my  hard 
earnings  for  the  support  of  a  parcel 
of  lazy  nobles  and  a  useless  court,  I 
have  hidden  all  the  money  bags  there ; 
therefore,  be  careful  that  nobody 
knows  of  it  but  yourself."  So  saying, 
Peter  mounted  his  wagon  and  drove 
off.  Silly  Catharine  looked  after  him 
as  long  as  he  could  be  seen,  and  then 
went  back  to  the  kitchen,  determined 


THE  CABBAGES.  47 

to  show  her  husband  how  clever  she 
had  become. 

"  Shall  I  go  and  tell  the  goose  girl 
to  hunt  the  turkeys  into  the  coo]* 
first  ?  "  thought  she  ;  "  or  shall  I  put 
on  the  cabbage  to  boil  ?  I  think  I  will 
set  my  cabbage  on  first ;  it  will  take 
but  a  moment,  the  turkeys  are  safe  till 
then." 

So  she  went  to  the  larder,  got  out 
a  fine  large  cabbage,  and  hung  the 
pot  over  the  fire,  that  it  might  boil 
quickly.  The  steam  of  the  cabbage 
cooking  ascended  if)  her  nose  with  a 
delicious  perfume,  and  at  last,  what 
with  hanging  over  the  pot  enveloped 
in  steam,  and  the  heat  of  the  fire,  she 
felt  very  drowsy,  and  falling  into  her 
chair,  was  soon  soundly  asleep.  She 


4:8  FUtfNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

had  not  slept  long  before  in  came  the 
goose  girl,  whose  business  it  was  to 
take  charge  of  the  fowls  of  all  sorts, 
crying  out,  "  Oh,  mistress !  mistress : 
the  turkeys  have  got  among  the  bram- 
bles, and  cannot  get  out !  " 

"  Mercy  upon  us ! "  exclaimed 
Catharine,  springing  up  and  wringing 
her  hands;  "what  will  Peter  say  to 
me !  He  will,  doubtless,  break  his 
stick  over  my  shoulders.  If  it  were  not 
for  the  cabbage  on  the  fire,  I  should 
certainly  throw  myself  from  the  win- 
dow ! "  So  saying,  she  ran  out  into 
the  field,  but  too  late ;  the  little  tur- 
keys were  all  in  the  very  middle  of  a 
bramble  bush,  which  had  tangled  in 
their  feathers,  until  it  was  impossible 
to  get  them  out ;  beside  which,  a  fox 


THE  CABBAGES.  49 

had  entered  the  barn  yard  in  the 
goose  girl's  absence,  by  the  gate,  which 
she  had  carelessly  left  swinging  open, 
and  carried  off  the  biggest  and  hand- 
somest Poland  rooster,  that  Wise  Pe- 
ter valued  even  more  than  the  tur- 
keys. About  this  last  loss,  however, 
she  said  nothing,  hoping  that  her  mis- 
tress wouldn't  remark  it.  This,  in- 
deed, proved  to  be  the  case ;  for,  with- 
out noticing  the  absence  of  poor 
Chanticleer,  Catharine  burst  into 
tears,  exclaiming,  "What  is  to  be 
done?  The  only  way  is  to  cut  the 
bush  down." 

As  she  spoke,  she  seized  an  axe, 
and  with  one  blow  felled  the  bush  to 
the  ground.  But  what  was  her  horror 
to  find,  as  she  let  fall  the  axe,  that  she 

v.— 4 


60  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

had  also  struck  off  the  heads  of  every 
one  of  the  turkeys ! 

"  Oh  heavens  !  what  a  misfortune  !  " 
cried  Catharine ;  "I  am  the  most  un- 
lucky woman  in  the  world !  Now  Wise 
Peter  will  not  leave  a  whole  bone  in 
my  body!  Alas,  the  turkeys  would 
have  sold  for  eight  skillings  apiece 
when  they  had  grown  fat  and  big ! 
The  only  thing  that  consoles  me  is, 
that  I  shall  have  such  a  famous  sup- 
per ready  for  him.  When  he  tastes 
my  fine  cabbage  soup,  I  am  sure  he 
must  forget  to  be  vexed !  "  There  were 
still,  however,  the  bodies  of  the  tur- 
keys to  see  after ;  so  she  took  out  her 
needle  and  thread,  sewed  the  heads  of 
the  turkeys  on  their  necks,  and  set 
them  upright  in  the  coop,  that  they 


THE   CABBAGES.  51 

might  look  as  though  they  were  still 
alive. 

After  this  precious  piece  of  clever- 
ness, Silly  Catharine  returned  to  the 
house  to  see  how  her  cabbage  came 
on.  But  she  had  been  gone  so  long 
that  the  water  in  the  pot  had  all  boiled 
away,  and  the  cabbage  was  burning 
on  hard  and  fast  to  the  bottom  of  the 
pot.  "  Why,  bless  me !  where  can  the 
water  have  gone  to  ? "  cried  Silly 
Catharine.  "It  must  have  all  drawn 
up  chimney!  Nevertheless,  it  would 
be  a  pity  to  lose  it;  full  of  the  cabbage 
juice  as  it  was,  it  might  well  have 
been  made  into  soup ;  and  Wise  Peter 
has  told  me  a  hundred  times  never  to 
waste  anything.  I  will  get  something 


52  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

to  let  down  the  chimney  and  see  if  I 
can  dip  it  up." 

So  saying,  she  began  to  look  about 
for  a  rope  long  enough  to  reach  down 
the  chimney ;  but  she  couldn't  find 
one.  All  at  once  her  eye  fell  on  the 
bucket  standing  outside  the  well.  Joy- 
fully rushing  to  it,  she  cut  the  rope, 
and  dragging  the  bucket  after  her, 
scrambled  out  on  the  roof,  and  began 
letting  it  down  the  chimney.  While  she 
was  thus  engaged,  a  poor  little  fright- 
ened swallow,  who  had  built  its  nest 
there,  suddenly  flew  up  the  chimney 
and  darted  right  in  her  face.  Silly 
Catharine  was  so  much  frightened, 
that  she  gave  a  loud  scream  and  let 
go  of  the  rope.  The  bucket,  of  course, 
fell  into  the  middle  of  the  fire,  and  in 


THE  CABBAGES.  53 

a  twinkling  was  burnt  to  cinders. 
Down  from  the  roof,  and  into  the 
kitchen,  rushed  Catherine,  but  too 
late ;  nothing  save  the  iron  hoops  now 
remained  of  the  bucket. 

"What  shall  I  do?"  cried  Silly 
Catharine.  "  Not  an  hour  passes  but 
some  new  misfortune  occurs.  Alas !  I 
am  no  longer  able  to  draw  water  for 
my  soup  !  but  stay,  I  think  of  a  way !  " 
So  saying,  she  took  the  pot  from  the 
hook,  tied  a  rope  to  the  handle,  let  it 
down  the  well,  with  the  cabbage  still 
in  it,  and  when  it  was  filled  carried  it 
back  to  the  house,  and  hung  it  over 
the  fire. 

Soon  afterward  the  dairy  maid 
went  to  draw  some  water  for  dinner. 
She  could  not  find  the  bucket ;  so  she 


54  FUSTNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

let  down  a  milk  pail  instead;  but 
when  she  came  to  taste  the  water,  she 
tasted  also  the  flavor  of  the  cabbage, 
and  ran  to  her  mistress,  calling  out, 
"Why,  mistress,  who  has  been  med- 
dling with  our  fine  well  ?  It  had  once 
the  best  water  in  the  neighborhood, 
but  now  the  flavor  is  precisely  that  of 
a  greasy,  horrible  cabbage  !  " 

"  Nonsense !  "  cried  Silly  Catharine, 
with  an  air  of  contempt;  "it  is  all 
your  fancy.  Don't  tell  me  that  water 
can  taste  of  cabbages !  "  Her  heart 
beat  with  affright,  however,  and  as 
soon  as  the  servant  maid  had  left  the 
room,  she  ran  in  great  terror  to  the 
wine  cellar.  "  What  the  servant  said 
must  have  been  true,"  thought  she ; 
"and  Wise  Peter  will  never  forgive 


THE  CABBAGES.  55 

me  when  he  finds  out  that  I  have 
spoilt  the  well.  I  will,  therefore,  pour 
sonic  wine  into  the  water,  to  take 
away  the  taste  of  the  cabbages/'  So 
saying,  she  seized  one  of  the  wine  bar- 
rels, and  in  the  strength  of  terror  she 
managed,  with  great  difficulty,  to  push 
it  up  the  cellar  stairs,  and  roll  it 
through  the  kitchen  out  to  the  well. 
Then  she  removed  the  spile  and  tilted 
the  cask  forward ;  when  out  streamed 
at  least  thirty  gallons  of  the  finest  To- 
kay down  the  well ! 

Having  done  this,  Silly  Catharine 
hid  the  barrel  away  with  great  pre- 
cipitation; and,  determined  to  leave 
nothing  else  undone,  she  called  the 
reapers  and  bid  them  go  directly  to 
the  large  field  and  reap  the  wheat. 


56  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

Then  she  went  back,  and  began  eating 
her  dinner,  saying,  "  Thank  heaven,  I 
have  a  good  dinner  to  sit  down  to,  at 
least;  there  are  always  cabbages 
enough ! " 

Meanwhile,  the  reapers  made  ready 
to  go  a-field ;  and  before  they  went, 
one  of  them  drew  a  bucket  of  water 
to  carry  with  them.  But  no  sooner 
had  they  tasted  the  water,  than  they 
cried  out,  "  'Tis  wine !  the  finest 
wine ! "  and  scarcely  able  to  believe 
their  senses,  they  drew  up  bucket  after 
bucket  of  this  new  liquor,  drank  till 
they  became  drunk,  and  then  tumbled 
senseless  among  the  wheat;  for  it 
happened  that  the  well  was  very  low, 
and  what  they  drew  was  nearly  all 
wine.  While  they  lay  there,  a  violent 


THE  CABBAGES.  57 

hail  storm  came  on,  and  in  an  hour's 
time  the  whole  of  the  wheat  was 
beaten  to  the  ground,  drenched, 
crushed,  and  ruined. 

Unconscious  of  this  fresh  misfor- 
tune, Silly  Catharine  prepared  her  soup 
for  supper,  and  then,  having  finished 
her  work,  she  sat  down  in  the  front 
porch  and  began  to  knit,  feeling  as  if 
at  last  all  her  troubles  were  over. 
Presently  tho  gate  was  opened,  and  a 
man  entered  the  garden.  It  was  he 
who  was  appointed  to  gather  the  tax, 
and  knowing  Wise  Peter  to  be  well 
off,  it  was  to  his  house  that  he  first 
came. 

"  Oh,  you  are  very  much  mistaken 
if  you  think  I  will  pay  your  outrageous 
tax !  "  cried  Silly  Catharine.  "  No,  no  ! 


53  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

< 

Wise  Peter  would  know  better  than 
that,  and  his  wife  will  not  be  behind 
hand!  He  told  me  before  he  went 
that  he  had  no  money  to  pay,  and  if 
he  had,  he  wouldn't  give  it  to  support 
your  lazy  nobles ;  so  be  off  with  you !  " 
While  Catharine  had  been  making 
this  tirade,  the  tax  gatherer,  to  whom 
she  had  unwittingly  given  a  valuable 
hint,  hit  upon  a  new  plan  by  which  to 
secure  his  guilders.  So  as  she  paused, 
out  of  breath,  he  exclaimed,  in  a  con- 
temptuous tone  :  "  There  is  no  use  in 
making  such  a  noise,  good  woman ;  I 
see  plainly  that  I  was  a  fool  to  sup- 
pose the  owner  of  this  beggarly  house 
was  worth  five  hundred  guilders.  Five 
kreutzers  would  be  much  nearer  the 
mark ! " 


THE   CABBAGES.  59 

"  What !  do  you  dare  to  call  the 
house  of  Wise  Peter  beggarly  ! "  cried 
Catharine  in  a  rage;  " beggarly,  in- 
deed !  you  could  never  get  such  a  fine 
one  if  you  live  a  thousand  years." 

"  And  I  repeat  that  it  is  a  beggarly 
house,"  said  the  other ;  "  with  a  poor, 
miserable  family  in  it." 

"  You  don't  believe  me  ?  "  screamed 
Billy  Catharine  :  "  well,  then  I'll  show 
you  what  you  call  poor ;  a  pretty 
thing,  indeed,  that  you  should  say  wre 
are  a  beggarly  family !  "  And,  bounc- 
ing from  her  seat,  she  led  the  tax 
gatherer  to  the  store  room,  and  drag- 
ging the  money  bags  from  their  con- 
cealment, she  opened  them  trium- 
phantly, saying,  "  There,  what  do  you 
call  that?" 


60  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

"  At  least  a  thousand  guilders !  " 
exclaimed  the  tax  gatherer,  astonished 
at  seeing  so  much  more  than  he  had 
expected.  "  So,  you  refuse  to  pay  the 
tax  when  you  have  all  this  money  in 
the  house !  I  confiscate  it  all  in  the 
name  of  the  king,  and  you  may  think 
yourself  lucky  if  you  and  your  precious 
husband  (who  must  be  wise,  since  he 
married  such  a  wife  as  you),  don't  get 
thrown  into  prison  besides."  So  say- 
ing, he  snatched  up  the  bags  of  guil- 
ders, while  Catharine  stood  staring  at 
him  in  mute  horror,  and  in  an  instant 
was  out  of  the  house,  and  gone  on  his 
way. 

Nearly  stunned  with  this  new  mis- 
hap, Catharine  burst  into  tears,  and 
ran  down  stairs  crying,  as  though  her 


THE  CABBAGES.  61 

heart  would  break.  "  What  is  to  be- 
come of  me/'  she  sobbed,  "when  Pe- 
ter comes  home  ?  He  will  certainly 
kill  me  for  having  shown  the  tax 
gatherer  the  money!  Nevertheless, 
what  could  I  do  ?  It  was  impossible 
to  have  people  say  that  Wise  Peter 
was  a  beggarly  creature — I  could  not 
allow  that ! "  and,  a  little  re-assured, 
she  dried  her  eyes  and  went  to  taste 
the  soup.  It  was  nearly  done,  and 
tasted  deliciously.  "Ah  !  "  cried  Silly 
Catharine,  "  the  soup  is  better  than 
usual !  It  quite  repays  me  for  all  to 
think  that  wre  still  have  the  finest  cab- 
bages ! " 

In  the  mean  time,  one  of  the 
reapers,  who  had  drank  less  wine  than 
the  others,  woke  up  sober,  and  as  soon 


62  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

as  he  found  he  could  stand  on  his  legs, 
he  ran  post  haste  to  the  village  to 
relate  the  wonderful  tale.  The  place 
being  small  and  the  gossips  many,  it 
was  not  half  an  hour  before  the  whole 
population  knew  the  extraordinary 
occurrence  that  had  taken  place. 
Even  the  cure,  the  magistrate,  and  the 
doctor  rushed  into  the  street  to  hear 
the  news,  and  a  pretty  uproar  there 
was.  "  Said  I  not  truly  that  Wise 
Peter  was  in  league  with  the  Evil 
One  ?  "  exclaimed  one,  "  for  only  thus 
can  the  miracle  of  a  spring  of  wine  be 
accounted  for."  "  True,  true  !  "  cried 
the  listeners ;  "  a  wizard  he  must  be ; 
and  that  of  a  right  dangerous  sort !  " 

Just  at  this  moment,  the  wagon 
of  Wise  Peter  was  seen  coming  along 


THE  CABBAGES.  63 

the  road.  The  impatient  villagers 
could  not  wait  for  him  to  approach 
them,  but  rushed  toward  the  wagon 
and  surrounded  it  on  every  side. 
"How  now,  wretched  wizard!"  they 
one  and  all  shouted  ;  "  dare  you  look 
us  in  the  face  when  we  have  found 
you  out  in  your  sorceries  ?  Away  with 
you  to  prison ! "  and,  so  saying,  they 
laid  hold  of  Wise  Peter,  dragged  him 
out  of  the  wagon,  and  bore  him  toward 
the  magistrate.  In  vain  the  wretched 
man  begged  for  some  explanation,  de- 
clared a  hundred  times  over  that  he 
was  no  wizard,  but  an  honest  peasant ; 
they  only  shouted,  tauntingly,  "A 
pretty  story  for  a  man  who  turns  his 
well  springs  into  the  finest  wine!  no 


64  FroTCY  BIG  SOCKS. 

wizard,  indeed !  say,  rather,  a  wizard 
of  the  worst  kind !  " 

With  these  words,  they  hauled  him 
before  the  magistrate,  where,  again, 
the  reaper  repeated  his  story,  adding, 
by  way  of  proof,  "If  you  don't  be- 
lieve me,  go  and  see  the  other  reap- 
ers ;  there  they  lie  drunk,  where  I  left 
them." 

"  You  hear  what  this  honest  man 
says,"  said  the  magistrate.  "  We  have 
long  suspected  you  of  sorcery,  but  this 
proves  the  matter  at  once.  Either  you 
must  forfeit  a  hundred  guilders,  as  or- 
dained by  law  in  such  cases,  or  you 
must  go  to  prison." 

Almost  distracted,  Wise  Peter  ex- 
claimed, "You  have  seen  fit,  worthy 
magistrate,  to  accuse  me  of  a  crime 


THE  CABBAGES.  65 

of  which,  so  far  from  being  guilty,  I 
know  nothing  whatever.  When  I  left 
home  this  morning,  I  swear  the  water 
was  as  fresh  and  pure  as  possible.  I 
know  that  some  envious  people  had 
long  accused  me  of  practising  black 
arts,  and  if  Industry  and  Prudence 
are  black  arts,  I  am  certainly  guilty; 
but  in  this  matter  of  the  water,  I  am 
as  innocent  as  niv  own  wife !  " 

9 

'•'All  this  is  very  fine,"  answered 
the  magistrate ;  "  but  it  happens  that 
the  bewitched  water  can  be  pro- 
duced ;  "  and  turning  to  the  reaper,  he 
said,  "Have  you  any  of  this  water 
about  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  worthy  magistrate,"  replied 
the  reaper ;  "  as  I  came  away  from  the 


V.- 


66  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

field,  I  filled  my  flask  with  what  was 
left,  and  brought  it  with  me. 

The   flask  was  handed  to  Peter, 

and  no  sooner  had  he  tasted  it,  than 

he     fell     back     aghast,    exclaiming, 

Good  heaven,  it  is  wine !  and  very 

like  Tokay ! " 

"  What !  you  confess  it  yourself?  " 
cried  the  magistrate.  "  Don't  hope, 
then,  for  mercy !  You  shall  now  pay 
two  hundred  guilders,  or  go  to  prison 
for  a  year !  " 

"  Mercy  !  mercy  !  "  cried  the  un- 
fortunate man,  falling  on  his  knees. 
"  Consider  my  family,  worthy  magis- 
trate ;  do  not  disgrace  them  by  send- 
ing me  to  prison !  I  see  the  water  has 
been  changed,  but  not  by  me ;  and 
though  you  will  not  believe  me,  I  can 


THE   CABBAGES.  67 

solemnly  assure  you,  with  perfect 
truth,  that  I  am  innocent." 

"  Pay  or  go  to  prison  !  "  answered 
the  magistrate  inexorably. 

With  many  tears  and  groans,  the 
unlucky  Peter  drew  a  purse  full  of 
guilders  from  his  pocket  and  paid  over 
the  whole  proceeds  of  his  sale  of 
wheat,  which  only  amounted  to  a 
hundred  and  five  guilders ;  the  magis- 
trate remarking  that  he  would  let  him 
off  with  that  if  he  would  solemnly 
swear  never  to  practise  the  black  art 
any  more,  and  to  unbewitch  his  well 
as  speedily  as  possible.  This  Peter 
did,  in  despair  of  bringing  them  to 
reason,  and  having  been  thus  severely 
punished  for  a  crime  he  was  utterly 
guiltless  of,  he  mounted  his  wagon 


68  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

again,  and  rode  home  in  a  state  of 
mind  that  can  better  be  imagined  than 
described. 

When  he  reached  his  own  home 
he  rapped  on  the  window  as  usual,  to 
warn  his  wife,  and  Catharine  rushed 
out  to  meet  him,  and,  throwing  her 
arms  round  his  neck,  cried,  "Oh,  Pe- 
ter, "  I  am  so  glad  you  have  returned ; 
the  good  cabbage  soup  is  all  ready  for 
you  ;  so  come  right  in  and  eat  it ! " 

"  Eat !  "  exclaimed  Wise  Peter, 
"  how  can  I  swallow  a  mouthful  when 
I  am  so  overwhelmed  with  misfor- 
tune ?  " 

"What!  you  also!"  said  Catha- 
rine ;  "  alas !  what  has  happened  ?  " 

With  accents  that  trembled  with 
rage  and  grief,  Wise  Peter  told  how 


PETER'S  RETURN  HOME. 


THE  CABBAGES.  09 

he  had  been  treated  in  the  village; 
but  he  had  scarcely  made  an  end  be- 
fore Catharine,  bursting  into  tears,  ex- 
claimed, "Oh,  what  will  become  of 
me !  Have  mercy,  Peter,  for  it  was  I 
who  poured  the  wine  down  the  well !  " 

"  Poured  wine  down  the  well !  " 
cried  Peter,  starting  in  astonishment ; 
"  then,  for  heaven's  sake,  why  did  you 
do  that  ?  " 

"Because,"  sobbed  his  wife,  "the 
water  tasted  of  cabbages !  " 

"  Of  cabbages ! "  repeated  the 
peasant,  in  greater  surprise  than  ever, 
"and  what  made  it  taste  of  cab- 
bages ?  " 

"Because  I  dipped  up  water  in 
the  cabbage  pot,"  cried  Silly  Catha- 
rine. 


70  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

\  ( 

"And  where  was  the  bucket?" 
asked  her  husband. 

"  I  burnt  it,  trying  to  dip  the  water 
out  of  the  chimney,  that  had  been 
drawn  up  from  the  cabbage  pot ! " 
gasped  Catharine,  feeling  that  every- 
thing must  now  be  told,  since  she  had 
begun. 

Wise  Peter  took  two  or  three 
strides  across  the  room  in  silence ; 
then,  making  a  violent  effort  to  speak 
quietly,  he  said,  "  And  why,  Catharine, 
since  you  supposed  that  water  could 
be  drawn  up  a  chimney,  did  you  leave 
the  pot  unwatched  ?  " 

Almost  in  a  scream,  Silly  Catharine 
broke  out,  "  Because  I  was  sewing  on 
the  turkeys'  heads  that  I  struck  off 
cutting  down  the  bramble  bush ! !  " 


THE  CABBAGES.  71 

"  Now,  was  ever  any  man  tormented 
with  such  a  fool  of  a  wife  !  "  shouted 
Peter,  almost  beside  himself  with  rage. 
"  I  could  beat  you  with  pleasure  for 
acting  so  witlessly,  but  that,  alas! 
would  not  pay  for  what  you  have  lost 
for  me  this  day.  A  hundred  and  five 
guilders  of  my  precious  money  have  I 
been  made  to  pay  for  your  foolery, 
besides  losing  my  Tokay  wine,  my 
field  of  wheat,  and  all  my  fine  young 
turkeys!  at  least  a  hundred  guilders 
more ! " 

"  Oil,  and  that's  not  the  worst ! " 
cried  Catharine. 

"What!  is  there  any  more  to 
come?"  exclaimed  Peter,  almost  out 
of  his  senses. 

"  Yes,"  stammered  Silly  Catharine ; 


72  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

"  the  man  came  here  to  gather  the 
tax,  and  I  told  him,  as  you  said,  that 
you  were  far  too  clever  to  pay  it,  and 
that  he  would  get  nothing  more  out 
of  me.  Then  he  said  you  were  a  beg- 
garly fellow,  not  worth  five  kreutzers, 
and,  of  course,  I  couldn't  allow  that ; 
so  I  showed  him  the  guilders  in  the 
store  room,  to  prove  that  he  spoke 
falsely,  and  he  took  every  one  of 
them !  I  am  so  sorry,  but  never 
mind,  there  is  excellent  cabbage  soup 
for  supper ! " 

At  this,  Peter  could  restrain  him- 
self no  longer,  and  falling  upon  Silly 
Catharine,  he  trounced  her  well  with 
his  stick,  until  she  cried  out  for  mer- 
cy. "  There ! "  he  said  at  last,  throw- 
ing down  the  stick,  "you  have  been 


THE  CABBAGES.  73 

well  punished,  though  not  half  enough 
to  pay  for  the  mischief  you  have 
done." 

Silly  Catharine  dried  her  eyes  upon 
her  apron,  and  with  a  reproachful 
look  exclaimed,  "  Still  you  have  beaten 
me,  Wise  Peter,  for  what  I  could  not 
help ;  for,  if  the  turkeys  had  not  been 
killed,  I  should  never  have  stayed 
away  so  long;  if  the  water  had  not 
flown  up  chimney  I  should  not  have 
burnt  the  bucket ;  and  if  the  well  had 
not  tasted  of  cabbages,  I  should  not 
have  thrown  in  the  wine.  And,  above 
all,  dear  Peter,  if  that  abominable  man 
spoke  ill  of  you,  how  could  I,  your 
wife,  avoid  showing  him  that  he  lied? 
Besides,  the  case  is  not  so  bad;  we 
have  lost  nearly  all,  it  is  true;  but, 


74:  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

thank  heaven,  we  still  have  delicious 
cabbages ! " 

In  spite  of  himself,  Wise  Peter 
could  not  help  bursting  out  laughing. 
"After  all,  Catharine,"  he  exclaimed, 
"  I  see  you  did  not  intend  doing  me 
any  harm ;  if  you  are  a  fool,  that,  cer- 
tainly, is  not  your  fault ;  therefore,  in 
future  let  us  never  be  separated.  Come, 
you  pretty  goose,  let  us  go  and  eat 
cabbage  soup." 

So  saying,  Wise  Peter  kissed  his 
wife's  blooming  cheek,  and  led  her 
into  the  house.  They  sat  down  with 
contented  hearts  to  the  nice,  smoking 
soup,  and  after  supper  walked  out 
among  the  spreading  cabbages. 


THE   WONDERFUL    LEGEND    OF 
THE    GOLD    STONE. 

IN  those  far  away  times  when  the 
world  was  yet  in  its  baby  clothes,  and 
people  were  not  as  wise  as  they  are 
nowadays,  there  dwelt  in  the  good 
town  of  London  a  poor  tailor's  appren- 
tice named  Bartlemy  Bowbell.  He 
might  be  called  poor  in  a  double 
sense ;  for  not  only  was  he  such  a 
lazy,  idle  fellow  that  he  scarcely  ever 
took  a  stitch,  and  so  seldom  had  a 
copper  of  his  own,  but  he  was  a  mis- 
erable workman,  and,  like  an  organ- 


76  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

grinder's  monkey,  or  a  blind  man's 
dog,  obtained  more  kicks  than  half- 
pence. 

In  the  same  room  with  him  were 
several  other  tailors;  who  sang  to- 
gether one  of  two  tunes  as  they 
stitched.  If  they  were  paid  for  every 
day's  work,  be  it  much  or  little,  they 
sang,  "  By  the  d-a-y !  by  the  d-a-a-y ! 
by  the  d-a-a-a-y ! "  and  the  needles 
went  in  and  out  as  slowly  as  the 
coaches  of  a  funeral  procession ;  but 
if  they  were  paid  for  every  gar- 
ment they  finished,  then  they  sang, 
"  By  the  job !  by  the  job !  by  the 
job !  "  and  the  needles  stitched  away 
like  an  express  train !  Bartlemy,  how- 
ever, crossed  his  legs,  put  his  thimble 
firmly  on,  and  stitched  briskly  for  five 


THE   GOLD   STONE.  77 

minutes ;  then  his  attention  would 
wander,  and  presently,  dropping 
•work,  thimble,  shears,  and  needle, 
he  began  singing  to  himself, 

"  Oh,  if  I  were  only  possessed  of  my  riches, 
I  never  would  sew  on  a  pair  of  old  breeches  ! 

Thimbles  and  thread  1 

Buttons  and  braid  ! 
Oh,  who  would  be  bound  to  this  rascally  trade  ? 

"  If  money  I  had,  I'd  be  free  from  all  care, 
And  what  master  must  make,  /should  have  but  to  wear  I 

Needles  and  pins ! 

Shears  and  cloth  ends  ! 
When  the  work's  ended  then  pleasure  begins  1  " 

"  What's  that  you're  singing  about 
riches?"  cried  his  master,  sharply; 
( Riches,  forsooth  !  you  will  die  in  the 
poor  house,  I  can  tell  you,  if  you  don't 
stitch  more  diligently !  Come,  sew 
away !  sew  away  !  "  So  saying,  he 


78  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

gave  him  a  good  thwack  with  his  yard 
stick,  to  make  him  continue  working. 


All  the  beatings  in  the  world,  how- 
ever, could  not  thump  out  of  Bartlemy 
Bowbell  a  belief  that  had  got  into  his 
head  that  he  should  one  day  become 
rich  and  famous,  through  the  agency 
of  a  wonderful  jewel  called  the  Gold 
Stone.  As  I  said,  people,  in  those 
days,  were  by  no  means  so  wise  as 
they  are  at  present,  and  so  it  fell  out 


THE  GOLD   STONE.  79 

that  the  most  learned  philosophers  of 
that  olden  time  believed  as  firmly  as 
did  the  tailor's  apprentice  in  the  exist- 
ence of  this  Gold  Stone,  the  peculiar 
property  of  which  was,  that  if  it  came 
in  contact  with  any  common  metal,  it 
changed  it,  on  that  instant,  into  gold. 
Now,  this  story  had  come  to  the  ears 
of  Bartlemy  Bowbell,  and  by  one  of 
those  odd  cranks  that  not  overwise 
people  sometimes  take  in  their  heads, 
he  was  perfectly  persuaded  that, 
sooner  or  later,  he  was  fated  to  find 
the  miraculous  gem. 

Matters  soon  rose  to  such  a  pitch, 
as  may  easily  be  seen,  that  his  master 
finally  turned  him  out  of  doors,  saying 
"  that  he  ate  more  than  he  would  ever 


earn." 


80  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

"Yery  well,  master,"  quoth  Bar- 
tlemy,  "  I  don't  regret  your  goose  and 
cabbage !  "  and  having  said  this,  he 
ran  away  as  hard  as  he  could,  drop- 
ping one  of  his  slipshod  shoes  as  he 
went  along,  with  his  master  pursuing 
after,  yard  stick  in  hand,  whom,  how- 
ever, he  soon  contrived  to  outstrip. 


As  he  had  not  earned  a  penny  dur- 
ing the  week,  he  was  entirely  without 


THE  GOLD   STONE.  81 

money,  and  nobody  would  lodge  a 
shabby  apprentice  with  only  one  shoe, 
for  nothing.  He  wandered  on  until  he 
was  clear  of  London  and  in  the  open 
fields,  begging  of  those  he  met  on  the 
road,  but  who  always  replied  to  his 
solicitation,  "Why  don't  you  go  to 
work,  you  lazy  'prentice  ?  "  for  they 
knew  what  he  was,  because  he  wore  a 
'prentice's  flat  cap.  Worst  of  all, 
night  now  came  on,  and  Bartlemy  was 
at  last  compelled  to  lie  down  beneath 
a  tree,  where  he  soon  fell  asleep.  The 
moon  rose  high,  and  still  Bartlemy 
snored,  when,  all  of  a  sudden,  he  was 
roused  by  a  smart  blow  on  the  shoul- 
der from  -what  he  could  have  sworn 
was  a  yard  stick. 

"  Needles  and  pins !  "  cried  Bartle- 

V.— 6 


82  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

my,  sitting  up  in  haste ;  "  what's 
that?" 

"Bartlemy  Bowbell,"  croaked  a 
strange  voice,  "  look  at  me." 

Bartlemy  looked  round,  and  to  his 
extreme  terror,  saw  standing  beside 
him  a  being  whom  he  could  only  sup- 
pose to  be  a  goblin.  He  was  not  more 
than  four  feet  high,  with  very  bow 
legs,  as  though  from  a  constant  habit 
of  tucking  them  up  on  a  tailor's  shop 
board ;  his  clothes,  fashioned  from  odd 
bits  of  velvet  and  cloth  such  as  tailors 
call  "  cabbage/7  or,  as  we  should  say, 
the  pieces  of  the  customers'  stuff  left 
from  their  coats — were  trimmed  with 
thimbles  for  bell  buttons ;  on  his  head 
was  a  tailor's  cotton  nightcap,  with  a 
long  tassel,  and  hanging  at  his  waist 


THE  GOLD  STONE.  83 

were  an  immense  pair  of  shears,  and  a 
pincushion  bristling  with  needles  and 
pins.  In  one  hand  he  carried  the  yard 
stick  with  which  he  had  struck  the 
luckless  'prentice,  and  in  the  other  a 
tailor's  goose,  or  flat  iron. 

His  face  was  expressive  of  the 
most  jovial  good  humor,  though  it 
could  not  be  called  handsome,  for  his 
nose  was  flattened  as  though  he  were 
in  the  habit  of  trying  his  iron  against 
the  end ;  his  hair  seemed  composed 
of  long  and  short  threads  mingled  to- 
gether, and  he  had  an  abominable 
squint,  as  though  he  were  always  en- 
deavoring to  see  how  a  coat  set  at  the 
front  and  back,  the  collar  and  tail  at 
the  same  time. 


84  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

"  Bartlem y,"  said  the  goblin  again, 
"  what's  the  matter  with  you  ?  " 

"Matter,  your  worship?"  gasped 
Bartlemy. 

"Come  to  the  point,"  said  the 
goblin,  severely,  accidentally  swinging 
his  pincushion  against  Bartlemy's  legs 
at  the  same  time,  and  pricking  him 
most  atrociously.  "  You  are  everlast- 
ingly growling  and  grumbling,  instead 
of  working  at  your  trade  like  an  hon- 
est tailor,  and  richly  deserve  to  be 
thwacked  with  the  yardstick  every 
morning  by  way  of  breakfast ;  but 
never  mind,  I  choose  to  help  you ;  so 
say  what  you  want,  quick." 

"A-and  who  might  your  worship 
be?"  asked  Bartlemy,  with  a  cold 
shudder ;  for  he  felt  desperately  afraid 


THE  GOLD  STONE.  85 

that  he  had  got  hold  of  Old  Boguey 
or  Old  Nick — it  was  not  much  matter 
which. 

"  That's  none  of  your  business," 
said  the  being;  "but  if  you  must 
know,  I  am  Snippinbitz,  the  patron  of 
the  tailors." 

"  0  lord,  your  worship,  you  don't 
say  so  ! "  stammered  Bartlemy. 

"  That's  a  fact !  "  returned  the  gob- 
lin. "  Come,  out  with  it ;  what  can  I 
do  for  you  ?  " 

Bartlemy  scratched  his  head  and 
took  off  his  cap,  looked  into  it,  found 
no  words  there,  and  put  it  on  again ; 
and  finally,  with  a  bow  that  nearly 
toppled  him  head  over  heels,  and  a 
kick  up  of  his  foot  that  sent  his  re- 


86  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

maining  slipper  flying  into  the  nearest 
mud-puddle,  he  managed  to  say : 

"  Please,  your  worship,  I  want  to 
find  the  Gold  Stone." 

The  goblin  burst  into  a  discordant 
laugh  on  hearing  this ;  then,  suddenly 
becoming  serious,  he  said : 

"Well,  that's  a  sensible  request, 
Bartlemy,  and  a  modest  one,  consider- 
ing the  circumstances.  Never  mind,  I 
have  taken  a  fancy  to  you ;  your  wish 
shall  be  accomplished.  See  here." 

With  these  words  Snippinbitz  put 
his  hand  in  his  pocket,  and  pulled  out 
a  magnificent  jewel,  as  it  seemed  to 
Bartlemy.  It  was  of  the  most  resplen- 
dent purple  color  imaginable,  and 
sparkled  all  over  with  flecks  of  gold, 
which  seemed  to  swim  beneath  the 


THE  GOLD  STONE.  87 

surface.  Nothing  could  look  more 
gorgeously  beautiful  as  the  astonished 
tailor  held  it  up  in  the  moonlight; 
yes,  there  could  be  no  doubt  of  it; 
the  mysterious,  the  unattainable  Gold 
Stone  was  really  his ! 

"Now,  Bartlemy,  attend  to  me," 
continued  the  being.  "  The  Gold  Stone 
is  yours,  but  under  certain  conditions, 
which  must  be  faithfully  complied 
with,  or  no  gold !  First,  you  must 
return  to  London  to-morrow,  seek  out 
your  old  master,  and  ask  him  to  em- 
ploy you  as  a  regular  workman.  You 
will  find  yourself  able  to  sew  as  well 
as  the  best,  through  my  assistance, 
and  you  must  employ  this  power  dili- 
gently on  the  work  he  gives  you  to 
do.  I  warn  you,  however,  that  you 


88  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

must  keep  the  secret  of  the  Gold  Stone 
from  everybody ;  and,  in  order  that 
you  may  do  so,  you  must  never  take  it 
out  of  your  pouch  until  you  are  safe 
in  your  own  chamber.  Secondly,  when 
you  receive  your  wages,  place  the 
money  directly  in  the  pouch  contain- 
ing the  Gold  Stone,  and  do  not  look  at 
it  until  you  go  to  bed.  Then  you  will 
find  the  copper  turned  into  silver,  and 
the  silver  into  gold.  But  if  you  count 
the  money  first,  it  will  never  be  any 
different.  Thirdly,  in  a  year's  time 
from  to-night,  meet  me  at  this  spot,  and 
tell  me  how  you  have  prospered.  Will 
you  keep  these  conditions  faithfully  ?  " 

"  Ye-y-es !  your  worship !  "  stam- 
mered the  'prentice. 

"Then,  how   are   you,    Mr.    Gold 


THE  GOLD  STONE.  89 

Stone  !  "  exclaimed  the  goblin,  in  ad- 
vance of  the  age ;  and,  with  an  out- 
rageous wink,  he  treated  Bartlemy  to 
another  whack  with  the  yardstick, 
and  vanished. 

The  blow  struck  our  tailor  insen- 
sible; and  when  his  eyes  again  un- 
closed it  was  broad  daylight.  For  a 
moment  he  stared  about  him,  wonder- 
ing how  he  came  to  be  there ;  then, 
remembering  the  extraordinary  events 
of  the  previous  night,  he  hastily  felt 
in  his  pouch,  and  drew  out  the  mira- 
culous jewel.  It  flamed  in  the  sunlight 
like  a  bright  diamond  eye,  and  Bar- 
tlemy almost  fancied  he  caught  it 
winking  at  him.  This  idea  lasted  but  a 
moment,  and  having  taken  a  long  and 
delighted  stare  at  the  much-desired 


90  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

Gold  Stone,  he  replaced  it  carefully  in 
his  pouch,  and  started  straight  for 
London.  As  he  passed  the  newly- 
opened  bakers'  shops,  he  could  not 
help  wishing  that  he  had  a  half-penny 
in  the  world,  so  that  he  might  change 
it  into  a  crown  on  the  spot,  and  buy 
a  basketful  of  hot  rolls;  but  as  the 
Gold  Stone  was  not  warranted  to  make 
money,  he  was  forced  to  take  it  out 
in  wishing.  Fortunately  one  of  the 
bakers,  seeing  him  gaze  hungrily  at 
the  hot  bread,  had  the  kindness  to 
toss  him  a  large  roll ;  and,  munching 
this,  he  arrived  at  his  master's  shop. 

After  the  way  in  which  he  had 
been  turned  out,  he  hadn't  much  hope 
of  getting  in  again,  but,  afraid  of  dis- 
obeying the  goblin's  injunctions,  he 


THE  GOLD   STONE.  91 

entered  with  as  much  courage  as  he 
could  muster,  and  found  the  other 
tailors  stitching  away  as  usual,  while 
his  master  cut  out  a  coat. 

Bartlemy  took  his  cap  humbly  off, 
saying,  "Please,  master,  if  you  will 
employ  me  as  a  workman  now,  I  think 
I  can  please  you.  Do  try  me ;  I  will 
be  industrious  ;  indeed,  I  will." 

"  Oh,"  grumbled  the  master  tailor, 
"  sleeping  out  in  the  fields  and  going 
without  supper  and  breakfast  has 
done  you  good,  has  it?  Well,  take 
this  coat  and  sit  you  down;  but  I 
warn  you,  beforehand,  that  if  you  are 
not  more  industrious  than  usual,  I  will 
lay  my  yardstick  over  your  shoulder, 
and  clear  you  out  again." 

Bartlemy  took  the  work,  and  hav- 


92  FTTNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

ing  planted  himself  on  the  shop-board* 
in  his  favorite  place,  near  a  window, 
he  put  on  his  thimble,  threaded  his 
needle  with  a  grand  flourish,  and  be- 
gan to  stitch  away  for  dear  life.  He 
sewed  faster  and  better  than  he  had 
ever  done  before,  and  found,  to  his 
joy,  that  the  goblin's  promises  had 
begun  to  be  fulfilled  in  reality.  But 
bad  habits  are  not  to  be  conquered  as 
one  would  pull  up  weeds :  though  both 
must  be  torn  up  by  the  roots,  one 
might  weed  three  gardens  in  the  time 
it  takes  to  destroy  one  fault ;  and  so, 
without  really  meaning  it,  Bartlemy 
at  last  began  to  ply  his  needle  less 
briskly ;  his  thoughts  wandered ;  he 

*  A  shop-board  is  a  kind  of  table  on  which  tailors 
sit  when  at  work. 


THE  GOLD  STONE.  93 

took  a  stitch  that  was  three  times  too 
long,  then  another  in  a  wrong  place,  a 
third  and  fourth  all  askew,  and  finally 
the  work  came  to  a  dead  stand-still. 
But,  thimbles  and  thread !  what  hap- 
pened ?  The  instant  his  hand  stopped, 
a  long  yellow  yardstick  came  flying 
through  the  window,  with  no  one 
holding  it,  hit  him  such  a  thwack  on 
the  shins  that  he  roared  again  with  the 
pain,  and  instantly  vanished. 

"  Why,  what's  the  matter  ?  "  asked 
the  other  tailors,  startled,  as  they  well 
might  be. 

"  Matter  !  "  cried  Bartlemy.  "  Why, 
didn't  you  see  that — that  horrible 
yardstick  coming  at  rne  ?  " 

At  this  they  all  laughed  at  him  for 
a  fool;  for  nobody  but  our  tailor 


94  FUNNY   BIG  SOCKS. 

could  perceive  this  terrific  weapon, 
which  was  doubtless  invisible  to  com- 
mon eyes.  His  conscience  whispered, 
however,  that  his  punishment  was  a 
reminder  from  the  friendly  goblin,  and 
accordingly  he  set  to  work  with  re- 
newed diligence.  After  a  while,  lost 
in  dreams  of  his  approaching  wealth, 
he  stopped  stitching  again,  when,  like 
a  flash,  in  came  the  yardstick,  touched 
him  up  with  a  vengeance,  and  vanish- 
ed as  before ;  and  so  it  continued  all 
the  time  he  was  sewing :  the  watchful 
yardstick  would  only  allow  him  to 
stop  to  thread  his  needle  or  turn  the 
work. 

When  he  had  stitched  all  the 
seams,  he  laid  the  coat  on  the  table 
and  heated  his  goose,  that  he  might 


THE  GOLD  STONE.  95 

smooth  them.  He  took  care  to  post 
himself  a  good  way  from  the  window, 
in  order  to  get  rid  of  the  ferocious 
yardstick ;  but  the  goblin  was  not  to 
be  baffled  thus.  The  moment  he 
stopped  ironing  and  began  to  count 
the  flies  on  the  ceiling,  the  goose 
seemed  to  carry  his  hand  up  with  it — 
irrisistibly — to  the  end  of  his  nose,  and 
gave  it  a  good  scorching !  This  was 
no  joke,  I  can  tell  you,  and  in  a  very 
short  time  Bartlerny  began  so  to  dread 
the  visits  of  his  two  enemies  that  he 
never  left  working  a  minute,  and  his 
needle  dashed  along  like  magic.  By 
sunset  the  coat  was  done,  and  sewed 
in  a  manner  vastly  superior  to  the 
other  tailors,  who  looked  at  him  with 
envious  eyes.  "  What !  finish  a  whole 


96  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

coat  in  one  day  ?  "  they  cried ;  "  we 
never  could  do  so  well !  Goose  and 
cabbage !  friend  Bartleruy !  you  must 
have  the  assistance  of  some  fairy !  " 

Bartlemy  made  no  answer,  but 
taking  the  coat  in  hand,  carried  it 
to  his  master,  who  viewed  it  in  the 
greatest  astonishment.  Never  before 
had  a  coat  been  made  in  a  single  day, 
and  stitched,  too,  more  finely  than 
anything  he  had  ever  seen;  but,  not 
wishing  to  raise  his  late  'prentice's 
ideas  of  himself,  he  merely  grumbled 
out,  "  For  a  wonder  you  have  done 
your  work  this  time ;  so  now  take 
your  wages,  and  be  sure  to  come  early 
Monday  morn." 

As  he  spoke,  he  slipped  a  couple 
of  coins  into  Bartlemy's  hand,  who, 


THE  GOLD  STOXE.  97 

remembering  the  goblin's  words,  put 
them  into  his  pouch  without  so  much 
as  looking  at  them. 

Now,  no  doubt  my  clever  little 
readers  have  guessed  quite  readily  the 
true  solution  of  this  mighty  mystery ; 
but  to  the  simple  Bartlemy  the  real- 
ity of  the  Gold  Stone's  magic  power 
was  placed  beyond  a  doubt  when,  on 
reaching  his  chamber  and  striking  a 
light,  he  found,  instead  of  the  farthing 
and  penny  which  had  always  been 
his  weekly  payment,  a  crown  and  six- 
pence. 

"  Huzzah !  huzzah !  "  he  cried,  fair- 
ly jumping  for  joy;  "nay  beautiful 
Gold  Stone  is  doing  its  work  bravely." 
He  kissed  the  stone  in  his  delight,  and 
went  to  bed,  to  dream  of  becoming  a 
T -7  ' 


FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 


master  tailor,  and  making  clothes  for 
the  king. 

The  following  Monday  he  repaired 
to  his  master's  shop  the  first  of  any 
one,  and  everything  happened  as  on 
the  former  time;  except  that,  being 
more  diligent  at  his  work,  the  goose 
and  the  yardstick  were  less  frequent 
in  their  favors,  and  he  now  made  a 
coat  and  a  vest  in  the  day.  His  master 
really  knew  not  what  to  think ;  but  at 
least  so  good  a  workman  was  not  to 
be  lost;  so  he  kept  his  surprise  and 
suspicions  to  himself,  and  made  up  by 
heaping  more  and  more  sewing  on  the 
luckless  Bartlemy. 

It  didn't  make  any  difference, 
however ;  his  needle  almost  seemed  to 
work  by  itself,  and  the  sewing  was 


THE  GOLD  STONE.  99 

finished  by  sunset ;  so  that,  really,  the 
good-natured  goblin  was  the  original 
sewing  machine,  and  no  thanks  to 
Messrs.  Grover  and  Baker.  At  the  end 
of  the  week  his  master  paid  him  a 
crown  and  a  shilling ;  or,  as  Bartlemy 
believed,  a  farthing  and  a  penny ;  the 
next  week  a  guinea,  and  the  week  af- 
ter a  guinea  and  a  crown,  which  was 
the  highest  wages  ever  paid. 

So  things  went  on,  until  Bartlemy 
had  earned  enough  to  make  quite  a 
fortune  in  his  eyes ;  ten  whole  guineas 
lay  glittering  in  the  old  night  cap 
where  he  kept  his  savings,  and  the 
tailor  thought  he  might  now  set  up 
for  a  gentleman.  So  he  bought  cloth, 
made  himself,  in  secret,  a  fine  cloak, 
coat,  and  breeches,  and  in  these  jack- 


100  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

daw  adornments  paraded  about  the 
streets  a  whole  morning,  trying  to  ap- 
pear an  idle  fine  gentleman.  At  last 
he  strutted  into  the  best  inn,  ordered 
a  grand  dinner  and  a  bottle  of  wine, 
and  feasted  like  a  lord. 

But  his  time  was  coming.  The 
watchful  goblin,  though  not  at  his 
side,  knew  perfectly  well  what  he  was 
about,  and  soon  led  him  to  betray  his 
quality  most  fatally.  When  the  bill 
was  brought  him,  it  w^as  so  long  and 
so  tremendous  that  Bartlemy  sprang 
up  in  a  rage,  crying  out : 

"  Thimbles  and  thread !  Do  you 
call*  this  a  decent  charge  for  your  pal- 
try dinner?" 

The  landlord  stared  at  him  in  aston- 
ishment ;  then,  suddenly  bursting  into 


THE   GOLD  STONE.  1Q1 

a  loud  laugh,  he  cried,  "  Why,  gentles 
all,  this  fine  nobleman  is  nothing  but 
a  tailor !  ha !  ha ! "  and  he  put  his 
hands  to  his  fat  sides  and  shook  with 
laughter. 

"  Be  silent,  sirrah ! "  thundered 
Bartlemy;  "or  I'll  break  my  yard- 
stick over  your  shoulders  !  " 

"  Ha !  ha !  only  hear  what  he 
says !  "  laughed  the  landlord.  "  A 
miserable  tailor." 

"  If  you  do  not  stop  your  imperti- 
nence, I  will  shear  off  your  ears  like 
doth  dippings!"  retorted  the  angry 
tailor.  "  Goose  and  cabbage  !  man ; 
you  shall  not  trifle  with  me  !  " 

On  this  the  landlord  and  waiters 
turned  him  bodily  out  of  the  house, 
after  seizing  upon  all  his  remaining 


102  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

money;  and  the  moment  he  was  in 
the  street,  the  knowledge  of  how  he 
had  betrayed  himself  broke  upon  his 
mind.  Mortified  and  miserable,  he  hur- 
ried home,  determined,  after  this,  to 
stick  to  his  trade  and  play  fine  gentle- 
man no  more. 

The  year  at  last  drew  to  a  close, 
and  Bartlemy  had  now  earned  enough 
to  set  up  for  a  master  tailor ;  when,  one 
bright  moonlight  night,  he  suddenly 
remembered  that  it  was  the  very  an- 
niversary of  his  meeting  with  the  gob- 
lin. Starting  up,  he  ran  to  where  his 
pouch  was  placed,  took  out  the  Gold 
Stone  and  enjoyed  a  long  look  at  it, 
and  then,  throwing  his  cloak  around 
him,  he  hastened  forth.  The  moon- 
light beamed  brightly  on  the  path  he 


THE  GOLD  STONE.  103 

was  taking,  and  seemed  to  throw  all 
sorts  of  queer  shadows  before  him ; 
now  it  was  an  immense  yardstick, 
now  a  thimble  supported  on  two  nee- 
dles like  a  pair  of  spindle  legs,  then  a 
goose  with  a  pair  of  shears  astride  on 
the  handle. 

At  last,  as  he  paused  under  the  old 
tree,  he  heard  a  familiar  croaking 
laugh,  and  found  himself  unexpectedly 
in  the  presence  of  Snippinbitz,  the 
friendly  goblin. 

"Well,  Bartlemy,"  croaked  the 
being ;  "  and  how  have  you  prospered 
with  the  Gold  Stone  ?  " 

"Marvellously  well,  your  wor- 
ship ! "  replied  Bartlemy,  in  a  joyous 
tone. 

"And  you  found  a  crown  and  a 


104  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

shilling,  and  a  guinea  and  a  crown, 
instead  of  your  penny  and  farthing; 
did  you,  Bartlemy  ?  " 

"Why,  yes,  your  worship,  I  did, 
certainly." 

"And  the  Gold  Stone  changed 
them,  did  it,  Bartlemy  ?  " 

"Why,  yes,  your  worship;  of 
course  it  did." 

"  Now,  Bartlemy/7  said  the  goblin, 
in  a  confidential  tone,  laying  his  hand 
on  the  other's  shoulder,  "  I  want  to 
tell  you  something.  It  isn't  the  Gold 
Stone ! " 

"  It's— not— the— Gold— Stone  ! !  " 
gasped  Bartlemy. 

"  Why,  no,  you  donkey  !  there's  no 
such  thing ! " 

Bartlemy  turned  fairly  green  and 


THE  GOLD  STONE.  105 

yellow  with   horror   and   disappoint- 
ment. 

"  Listen  to  me,  Bartlemy  Bowbell," 
said  the  goblin ;  "  nobody  but  a  don- 
key would  suppose  that  a  round  bit 
of  purple  glass " 

"  Of  purple  glass ! "  repeated  Bar- 
tlemy, in  a  sort  of  dream. 

"Don't  interrupt,  Bartlemy — that 
a  bit  of  purple  glass  could  change  cop- 
per into  gold.  Your  master  paid  you 
the  wages  your  work  was  worth,  that 
is  all.  There  is  no  such  preposterous 
jewel  on  the  face  of  the  earth  as  you 
imagine ;  but  there  is  a  true  Gold 
Stone,  and  its  name  is 

(  FAITHFUL  INDUSTRY  ! ' 

As  the  goblin  spoke  these  words, 
he  suddenly  began  to  change  his  form, 


106  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

and  grew  taller  and  broader.  His  bell- 
button  thimbles  fell  off,  his  flat  nose 
became  long  and  sharp,  his  thread 
hair  gave  place  to  a  bald  pate,  and 
his  whole  appearance  became  won- 
derfully like  Bartlemy's  master.  He 
raised  his  yardstick,  brought  it  down 
with  a  tremendous  crack — and — Bar- 
tlemy  WOKE  ! 

Yes !  he  was  lying  under  the  tree 
where  he  had  thrown  himself  down 
the  night  before.  The  whole  of  what 
had  passed,  Gold  Stone,  money,  gob- 
lin, and  all,  was  but  the  fantastic  tra- 
cery of  a  dream ;  and  above  him  really 
stood  his  master,  who  had  repented 
of  having  turned  away  his  luckless 
'prentice,  and  had  come  to  seek  him. 

The  lesson  was  not  lost,  however, 


THE  GOLD  STONE.  107 

on  our  hero.  He  returned  to  his  mas- 
ter's shop,  where  he  worked  diligently, 
without  any  yardstick  coming  after 
him  ;  and  in  three  years'  time  rose  to 
be  a  master  tailor,  married  his  old 
master's  daughter,  cut  the  coats  of  the 
king  himself,  and  took  for  his  arms  a 
Gold  Stone,  supported  by  two  shears, 
and  the  motto : 

FAITHFUL  INDUSTRY. 


THE    PHILOSOPHERS'   TOUR. 

THERE  were  once  five  learned  men, 
who  had  been  shut  up  all  their  lives  in 
their  studies,  poking  their  noses  into 
saucepans  full  of  cookeries,  which  did 
not  resemble  savory  soups  or  well-fla- 
vored ragouts,  wearing  their  eyes  out 
with  reading  books  printed  in  the 
crabbedest  black  letter  possible,  and 
shrivelling  up  their  brains  with  think- 
ing, until  they  quite  rattled  inside 
their  skulls,  all  in  pursuit  of  out-o'-the 
way  knowledge. 

There  was  really  nothing  scientific 


THE  PHILOSOPHERS'   TOUK.  109 

with  which  they  were  not  acquainted ; 
while,  in  the  mean  time,  one  or  two 
little  things,  perfectly  familiar  to  peo- 
ple who  use  their  eyes  for  the  purpose 
of  noticing  the  common  occurrences 
and  habits  of  every-day  existence,  and 
exercise  their  understanding  in  every- 
thing that  can  make  life  comfortable 
and  agreeable,  had  entirely  escaped  the 
observation  of  our  philosophers. 

As  the  emperor  allowed  them  each 
a  handsome  pension  to  advance  the 
interests  of  science,  they  went  on  with 
their  discoveries  rejoicing,  and  for  a 
long  time  had  never  stirred  from  their 
apartments  in  one  of  His  Majesty's 
country  palaces.  They  scarcely  left 
off  thinking,  when  they  were  asleep ; 
never  had  the  least  idea  what  they 


110  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

were  eating  for  dinner,  or  even  what 
the  materials  of  that  dinner  looked 
like ;  and,  in  short,  were  sublimely  un- 
conscious of  any  of  the  ordinary  affairs 
or  interests  of  life ;  and  thought  only 
of  sciences,  and  high-flown  theories  of 
Health,  of  Natural  Philosophy,  Chem- 
istry, Botany,  and  goodness  knows 
what  beside.  The  fifth  and  last  of  the 
learned  men  was  supposed  to  consider 
silence  as  an  art  or  science,  since  he 
hardly  ever  said  anything ;  and  for 
that  reason  was  thought  to  be  wiser 
than  the  other  four  put  together. 

At  last,  one  fine  morning,  one  of 
our  learned  men  chanced  to  poke  his 
head  out  of  the  window,  to  see  what 
on  earth  had  become  of  one  of  his 
glass  retorts,  which  he  had  filled  with 


THE  PHILOSOPHEES'  TOUR.  HI 

gas  until  it  went  off  like  a  rocket ;  and 
could  not  help  being  struck  with  the 
blue  sky,  the  fresh  green  herbage, 
and  the  thousands  of  beautiful  wild 
flowers  that  sprinkled  the  grass.  It 
was  a  charming  summer  day ;  the  birds 
had  not  yet  left  off  singing,  and  the 
fresh  breeze,  fanning  the  bald  fore- 
head of  the  philosopher,  appeared 
wonderfully  pleasant. 

"  Why,  bless  me !  "  cried  the  phil- 
osopher, whose  name  was  Dr.  Skihi; 
"  while  I  have  been  trying  to  reduce 
chemistry  to  the  uses  of  a  penny  post, 
I  never  thought  of  remarking  whether 
it  was  a  pleasant  day  or  not.  How 
bright  and  beautiful  everything  looks ! 
Out-of-doors  is  a  very  good  sort  of 
thing,  after  all.  I  declare,  Fve  a  great 


112  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

mind — pooh!  nonsense;  science — glo- 
rious science,  is  a  great  deal  more  to 
be  regarded  than  a  fine  day  in  the 
country." 

So  saying,  he  drew  his  head  in 
again,  and  turned  to  his  books  and 
saucepans ;  for,  you  see,  he  was  trying 
to  condense  gas,  and  make  it  dart 
through  the  air  like  a  skyrocket,  car- 
rying a  letter,  or  a  telegraphic  mes- 
sage, or  even  a  traveller  with  it,  if  it 
was  made  strong  enough ;  but,  so  far, 
he  had  only  succeeded  in  breaking  his 
retorts,  and  blowing  himself  up  till  his 
head  came  bump  against  the  ceiling, 
and  knocked  off  little  bits  of  plaster. 
Everything  in  the  study  looked  re- 
markably dingy  after  the  freshness  of 
the  fields,  and  the  doctor  could  not 


DR.   MUMBUDGKT   LOOKING   OUT  OF   THE   WINDOW. 


THE  PHILOSOPHERS'   TOUR.  H3 

refrain  from  taking  another  peep. 
This  time,  the  contrast  appeared  even 
greater  than  before,  while  directly  un- 
derneath his  window  there  now  stood 
two  pretty  little  girls,  one  holding  a 
great  bunch  of  roses  and  other  bloom- 
ing flowers,  and  both  intent  on  a  long 
leaf  of  manuscript,  which  they  were 
puzzling  and  laughing  over,  calling  it 
"  such  a  silly  thing !  "  Our  doctor,  to 
his  great  dudgeon,  recognized  it  as 
part  of  a  learned  treatise,  his  own 
production,  which  had  accidentally 
blown  out  of  the  window  ;  but,  as  to  be 
known  as  the  writer  of  silly  things  is 
not  specially  dignified,  he  preferred 
saying  nothing  about  the  matter. 

"I  have  a  great  mind,"  he  said 
again ;    "  yes,    I'll    go   and    ask    Dr. 


V.—  fc 


114  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

Sheepshanks  if  he  does  not  think  it 
would  be  a  good  plan  for  us  to  take  a 
short  trip  into  the  country.  No  doubt 
we  should  make  some  very  important 
discoveries." 

Excusing  the  idea  to  himself  in  this 
way,  Dr.  Skihi  toddled  up  one  pair  of 
stairs  and  down  two  pair  of  stairs,  and 
straight  along  a  crooked  corridor,  and 
all  round  a  square  hall,  until  he  arrived 
at  the  apartments  of  Dr.  Sheepshanks. 
He  knocked  at  the  door,  and  peeped 
through  the  keyhole  until  he  was  told 
to  come  in,  when  he  opened  the  door 
softly,  and  shut  it  with  an  astonished 
bang,  that  made  all  the  spiders,  who 
were  dancing  hornpipes  in  all  the  cor- 
ners (for  the  learned  men  would  have 
died  rather  than  have  their  sacred 


THE  PHILOSOPHERS'  TOUR.  115 

studies  disturbed  by  a  house-cleaning) 
stand  on  one  leg  for  several  minutes 
with  surprise,  as  a  noise  in  the  phil- 
osophers' palace  was  a  thing  rather 
more  seldom  met  with  than  a  cronon- 
hotonthologos. 

The  sight  that  caused  Dr.  Skihi  to 
commit  such  a  breach  of  good  man- 
ners was  Dr.  Sheepshanks  in  the  very 
middle  of  a  summersault !  with  his 
flowered  dressing  gown  about  his  ears 
and  his  spindle  shanks  and  black 
stockings  in  the  air,  looking  not  unlike 
a  two-legged  radish  growing  upside 
down. 

To  him  rushed  Dr.  Skihi,  who, 
catching  his  friend  by  the  tails  of  his 
dressing  gown,  had  him  right  side  up 
in  a  hurry,  exclaiming,  "  Crucibles  and 


116  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

gasbags !  my  good  sir,  have  you  gone 
crazy  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed/'  returned  Dr.  Sheep- 
shanks, with  a  gleeful  laugh.  "  I  have 
made  a  discovery,  sir — a  great  discov- 
ery. I  happened  to  look  out  of  the 
window,  a  moment  ago,  and  I  saw  a 
couple  of  little  chaps  racing  up  and 
down,  and  playing  at  that  topsy-turvy 
game  you  saw  me  trying  just  now. 
Their  cheeks  were  so  fat,  and  their 
frames  so  sturdy,  that  I  feel  convinced 
such  exercises  are  the  best  promoters 
of  health  in  the  world ;  and  as  I  am 
getting  rather  broken  down  myself, 
while  I  am  finding  out  what  is  the 
best  way  for  other  people  to  keep 
healthy,  I  thought  I  would  try  the 
experiment.  It  does  make  the  blood 


THE  PHILOSOPHEKS'  TOUE.  117 

rush  to  the  head  somewhat,  I  must 
confess ;  but  it's  a  glorious  thing,  you 
may  depend !  I  feel  twenty  years 
younger  and  better  already,  I  assure 
you ! " 

All  this  time  Dr.  Sheepshanks  was 
puffing  and  panting,  with  a  very  red 
face  and  astonished  air ;  but  the  new 
theory  had  taken  possession  of  him, 
and  he  would  have  died  at  the  stake 
rather  than  allow  that  turning  sum- 
mersaults was  not  the  exercise  best 
adapted  to  old  gentlemen  of  sixty. 

Finding  his  friend  so  prepossessed 
in  favor  of  exercise,  Dr.  Skihi  pro- 
posed to  him  that  they  should  go  and 
take  a  walk,  to  which  he  readily 
agreed.  Then  they  went  to  Dr.  Smel- 
fungus,  the  great  botanist,  who  was  at 


118  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

present  trying  to  graft  japonicas  on 
bramble  bushes :  "  It  would  improve 
the  appearance  of  the  roadside  so 
much !  "  and  Dr.  Yan  Noostile,  who 
was  writing  a  splendid  work,  in  twen- 
ty-five volumes,  to  prove  that  people's 
feeling  hot  and  cold  was  perfect  fancy 
and  nonsense  ;  and  also  giving  a  num- 
ber of  scientific  ways  of  finding  out 
whether  it  would  rain  or  be  clear, 
and  what  time  o'  day  it  was,  without 
looking  to  see  if  the  wind  were  east, 
or  running  to  stare  at  a  clock ;  which, 
no  doubt,  would  be  of  the  greatest  use 
to  the  world,  and  leave  all  the  weath- 
ercocks and  watchmakers  quite  in  the 
shade.  Last  of  all,  they  came  to  Dr. 
Mumbudget,  who  had  on  his  study 
door  the  great  doorplate  you  see  in 


THE  PHILOSOPHERS'  TOUR.  119 

the  picture,  with  his  name  engraved 
on  it  in  letters  six  inches  long.  As 
usual,  he  said  not  a  word  in  reply 
to  the  invitation  of  his  friends,  but 
nodded  his  head  at  them  instead,  until 
he  nearly  nodded  it  off;  and  so,  be- 
ing all  of  one  mind,  our  philosophers 
locked  up  their  studies,  put  on  their 
five-cornered  caps,  and  taking  their 
gold-headed  canes  and  their  note 
books,  to  be  ready  to  put  down  any 
new  fact  that  might  turn  up,  started 
off  for  a  country  ramble. 

At  first  they  walked  along  quietly 
enough,  admiring  the  prospect,  and 
enjoying  the  fresh  air ;  but  after  a  few 
moments,  Dr.  Sheepshanks  could  no 
longer  resist  the  desire  to  put  his  new 
theory  of  health  into  practice. 


120  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

"  Keally,"  he  began,  "  it  would  be 
much  better  for  us  always  to  pursue 
our  studies  in  the  open  air.  Science 
teaches  us  that  the  most  healthy  peo- 
ple are  the  wild  Indians — those  chil- 
dren of  nature,  who  live  under  the 
trees,  dine  off  fresh  fruits,  and  take 
plenty  of  exercise.  Let  us  be  children 
of  nature,  my  friends,  and  improve 
our  health  by  running  to  that  tree," 
pointing  to  one  at  some  distance. 

Accordingly,  the  philosopher  start- 
ed off  at  an  amble,  followed  by  his 
companions,  who,  with  dressing  gowns 
flying  in  the  wind,  and  books  flying- 
out  of  their  pockets  every  minute, 
presented  rather  ridiculous  spectacles. 
They  were  so  deeply  engaged  that 
they  did  not  see  Dr.  Murnbudget 


THE  PHILOSOPHERS'  TOUR.  121 

quietly  walking  along  behind,  picking 
up  their  scattered  property. 

So  far  so  good ;  but  unhappily, 
not  being  accustomed  to  the  habits  of 
children  of  nature,  this  sudden  intro- 
duction to  the  true  mode  of  life  dis- 
composed our  learned  doctors  in  no 
small  degree.  Fairly  aching  from 
head  to  foot  with  fatigue,  Dr.  Sheep- 
shanks was  the  first  to  pause,  so  out  of 
breath  that  he  could  hardly  speak,  yet 
exclaiming,  with  a  beaming  face,  "  Ah ! 
you  may  depend,  gentlemen,  that  the 
only  way  to  enjoy  life  is  to  take  plenty 
of  exercise ! " 

This  was  drawing  rather  too  hard 
on  the  patience  of  his  friends,  after 
what  they  had  just  endured,  and  Dr. 
Skihi  exclaimed,  rather  crossly,  "At 


122  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

the  same  time,  your  exercise  is  a  fa- 
mous thing  to  make  one  thirsty !  I 
would  give  a  great  deal  to  obtain  a 
drink  of  spring  water ;  but  that  is  im- 
possible at  present." 

"  Impossible !  why,  there  is  nothing 
easier !"  said  Dr.  Sinelfungus.  "  Sci- 
ence teaches  us  that  some  vegetables 
are  nearly  all  water ;  turnips,  for  in- 
stance. All  you  have  to  do  is  to  get 
a  turnip  and  express  the  juice,  and 
there's  your  drink  of  water." 

"  How  about  going  to  a  well  ? " 
said  Mumbudget ;  but  nobody  appear- 
ed to  hear  him. 

"  And  pray,  are  there  any  turnips 
hereabout?"  asked  the  chemist,  im- 
patiently. 

Now,  the  fact  was  that  Dr.  Smel- 


THE  PHILOSOPHERS'  TOUE.  123 

fungus  had  never  seen  a  turnip ;  he 
had  only  read  in  books  that  turnips 
were  round,  watery  vegetables,  yellow 
outside  and  full  of  juice ;  for  he  was 
so  interested  in  finding  out  all  about 
flowers  and  plants  that  came  from 
Australia,  and  other  out  of  the  way 
places,  that  he  never  troubled  his  head 
with  common,  homemade  turnips — 
those  were  too  vulgar;  but  as  he 
wished  to  appear  informed  on  all  sub- 
jects, he  pointed  hap-hazard  to  a  field 
beside  the  road  saying,  carelessly, 
"Certainly;  there  are  some." 

Now,  what  do  you  think  Dr.  Smel- 
fungus  had  really  pointed  out  ?  Why, 
a  musk -melon  patch  !  and  as  his  com- 
panions knew  no  more  than  himself, 
Dr.  Skihi  scrambled  through  the  hedge 


124:  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

without  more  ado,  cut  with  his  pen- 
knife as  many  as  he  could  carry,  and 
returned  to  his  friends.  You  may  be- 
lieve how  they  enjoyed  the  feast,  sit- 
ting on  the  soft  moss,  in  the  cool  shade 
of  the  trees;  and  after  they  were 
through,  Dr.  Sinelfungus  gravely 
wrote  down,  "  Turnip — a  large,  round 
vegetable  growing  on  vines,  with  a 
rough,  yellow  outside,  ever  so  many 
seeds  in  the  middle,  and  tastes  of  nut- 
megs ! " 

After  these  exploits,  the  philoso- 
phers continued  on  their  way,  and  Drs. 
Smelfungus  and  Sheepshanks  felt  more 
proud  of  their  learning  than  ever. 
Meanwhile  Dr.  Murnbudget  said  noth- 
ing;  so  they  gave  him  credit  either  for 
thinking  a  great  deal,  or  being  too  big 


THE  PHILOSOPHERS'  TOUR.  125 

a  donkey  to  admire  such  splendid  ex- 
periments. 

The  sun  had  now  mounted  high, 
and  our  travellers  began  to  feel  its 
rays  inconveniently  warm.  Dr.  Van 
Noostile,  however,  laughed  them  all  to 
scorn. 

"  Too  warm  !  fiddlestick's  end !  "  he 
cried.  "  This  feeling  warm  and  cold 
is  all  humbug.  Dr.  Skihi  can  tell  you 
that  I  went  to  the  top  of  the  house 
with  him  every  night  for  a  week,  last 
winter,  to  look  at  a  comet,  in  noth- 
ing but  a  night  gown  and  an  umbrella, 
and  I  never  was  better  in  my  life ! 
Other  people  might  have  felt  cold,  or 
caught  cold;  but  I — I  enjoyed  the  sci- 
ence of  the  thing!  If  you  feel  too 
warm,  follow  my  plan ;  make  up  your 


126  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

minds  you  wont  feel  so,  and  the  thing's 
done ! "  and  Dr.  Van  Noostile  marched 
proudly  along  in  the  hottest  part  of 
the  road,  with  his  nose  in  the  air, 
though  the  sun  blistered  the  end  most 
abominably !  while  the  others,  not  to 
be  behindhand  in  wisdom,  followed  his 
example ;  all  but  Murnbudget,  who 
kept  in  the  shade  of  the  trees  grow- 
ing beside  the  road,  and  was  secretly 
voted  a  greater  donkey  than  ever. 

Fortunately  for  the  rest,  who  might 
otherwise  have  been  sunstruck,  a 
friendly  cloud  bank,  which  had  been 
for  some  time  gathering  in  the  east, 
now  began  to  cover  the  sky  complete- 
ly ;  and  Dr.  Mumbudget,  speaking  for 
the  second  time,  just  said,  "  Rain  com- 
ing; better  hurry  on,"  and  then  re- 
lapsed into  silence. 


THE   PHILOSOPHERS'   TOUK.  127 

"  Rain !  no  such  thing !  "  cried  Dr. 
Van  Noostile.  "  When  it  is  about  to 
rain,  you  will  observe  that  the  swal- 
lows fly  low !  and  as  I  don't  see  a 
sign  of  a  swallow,  you  may  depend 
that "  His  speech  was  interrupt- 
ed by  a  thunderclap,  and  then  down 
poured  the  flood !  in  one  of  those  sud- 
den, heavy  showers  that  so  often  take 
place  in  summer,  wetting  the  whole 
party  to  the  skin  in  less  than  two  min- 
utes. It  was  of  no  use  to  run,  and  as 
they  plodded  along  in  the  wet,  our 
philosophers  looked  at  Dr.  Van  Noos- 
tile with  faces  in  which  anger  and  dis- 
may were  equally  mingled. 

"  Is  this  your  knowledge  of  weath- 
er ?  "  exclaimed  Dr.  Skihi,  in  a  pet. 

"  Science  teaches  us  that  even  a 


128  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

child  of  nature  should  go  in  when  it 
rains !  "  snapped  Dr.  Sheepshanks. 

"  And  though  water  is  undoubtedly 
necessary  for  internal  refreshment,  ex- 
ternal application,  in  the  form  of  a 
hard  shower,  is  only  suitable  to  plants! " 
snarled  Dr.  Smelfungus. 

In  short,  they  all  set  upon  the  luck- 
less weather  prophet,  except  Dr.  Mum- 
budget,  who,  when  they  had  all  scold- 
ed themselves  out  of  breath,  quietly 
pointed  out  a  farm  house  they  were 
now  approaching,  and  led  the  way 
thither  himself. 

There  was  no  need  for  words. 
Gladly  did  the  wretched  philosophers 
hasten  to  its  shelter,  and  avail  them- 
selves of  the  bright  kitchen  fire  to  dry 
their  flowered  dressing  gowns,  and  wet 


THE  PHILOSOPHERS'  TOUR.  129 

stockings  and  shoes.  While  they  were 
drying,  and  steaming  like  the  safety 
valve  of  a  high-pressure  steamboat, 
the  good  woman  of  the  house,  not 
without  some  doubts  of  their  sanity, 
set  about  preparing  a  savory  meal.  In 
a  short  time  this  was  ready,  and  the 
others  were  just  sitting  down  to  a  dish 
of  nice  broiled  ham  and  some  light 
wheaten  biscuits,  when  Dr.  Sheep- 
shanks exclaimed,  with  an  air  of 
amazement,  "  Is  it  possible,  my  friends, 
that  you  are  willing  to  violate  the 
natural  laws  of  health  by  eating  dishes 
at  which  a  child  of  nature  would  be 
horrified!  Not  for  me  be  so  degen- 
erate a  meal !  /shall  lunch  on  fare  such 
as  a  wild  Indian  best  loves !  "  So  say- 
ing, he  tucked  up  his  sleeves,  called 

v.— 9 


130  FUNNY  BIG   SOCKS. 

for  some  unground  corn,  and  having 
pounded  it  in  a  mortar  until  it  was  in 
coarse  bits,  he  mixed  with  it  a  little 
water,  and  baked  this  horrible  mess 
before  the  fire,  t  in  the  hot  ashes.  Then 
he  asked  for  a  slice  of  bacon,  as  veni- 
son was  not  at  hand,  frizzled  the  out 
side  slightly  by  holding  it  up  on  a  cleft 
stick  before  the  fire,  burning  his  ten 
fingers  several  times  in  the  process, 
and  bearing  it  with  heroic  fortitude. 
Finally,  he  served  up  these  atrocious 
specimens  of  cookery  on  pieces  of 
board  instead  of  dishes,  as  the  proper 
diet  for  children  of  nature — and  phi- 
losophers ! 

As  he  could  not  induce  the  other 
savants  to  prefer  the  luncheon  of  wild 
Indians  to  that  of  civilized  Christians, 


THE  PHILOSOPHERS'  TOUR.  131 

Dr.  Sheepshanks  ate  it  all  up  himself, 
though,  in  fact,  his  rebellious  palate 
steadily  refused  to  relish  the  dainties  pre- 
pared for  it.  Science  must  be  made  to 
triumph,  however,  and  the  little  doctor 
gallantly  charged  these  "  What  is  It's  " 
of  cookery  and  finished  the  last  mor- 
sel under  furious  protest  of  stomach. 

Somewhat  comforted  by  the  meal, 
and  seeing  that  the  clouds  had  given 
place  to  a  clear  sky,  the  philosophers 
resumed  their  dressing  gowns,  woefully 
shrunken  by  the  wetting  and  drying 
they  had  received,  and  having  liberally 
paid  their  hostess,  started  on  the 
homeward  road ;  concluding  that  they 
had  seen  enough  for  one  day.  They 
were  in  the  very  poorest  condition  for 
a  long  walk,  for  their  theories,  so  far 


132  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

from  making  them  any  happier,  had 
produced  only  ill  effects.  Dr.  Sheep- 
shanks' healthful  exercise  had  given 
them  all  stitches  in  the  sides,  and  aches 
in  the  back ;  Dr.  Smelfungus's  knowl- 
edge of  botany  had  betrayed  them 
into  such  excesses  of  melon  alias  tur- 
nip eating,  that  various  queer  doub- 
lings up  in  the  epigastric  region  began 
to  make  themselves  apparent ;  the 
natural  philosophy,  which  had  led  Dr. 
Van  Noostile  and  his  good  friends  to 
parade  along  the  middle  of  the  road 
in  the  sun,  had  given  them  furious 
headaches;  and,  to  crown  all,  Dr.  Skihi 
now  made  the  most  brilliant  proposal 
of  anybody. 

Our    good    doctor  was   evidently 
brimming,  one   might   say  creaming, 


THE  PHILOSOPHERS'  TOUR.  133 

over  with  the  milk  of  human  kindness ; 
beyond  a  possible  doubt  he  was  about 
to  propound  a  discovery  of  benefit  to 
the  whole  world.  His  bald  head 
beamed  benevolence,  overflowing  be- 
neficence to  all  mankind  radiated  from 
the  very  tails  of  his  dressing  gown  as 
he  cried : 

"  My  dear  friends,  you  are  all  too 
tired  to  walk  home  now,  ain't  you? 
You  would  like  to  get  there  before 
you  could  say '  Jack  Robinson ' —  now, 
wouldn't  you  ?  and  if  I  were  to  accom- 
plish that  happy  end,  you  could  never 
be  grateful  enough — now,  could  you  ?" 

"  Certainly  not ! "  exclaimed  the 
advocate  of  exercise,  who  wished  from 
his  inmost  soul,  either  that  he  had 
taken  less  turnip,  or  that  the  famous 


131  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

seven  league  boots  were  on  his  legs  at 
that  moment. 

"  Then  all  you  have  to  do/'  cried 
Dr.  Skihi  with  sparkling  eyes,  is  to  get 
in  a  convenient  posture ;  allow  me  to 
set  off  this  retort  of  mine  behind 
you — "  here  he  produced  a  "  glass 
concern"  from  a  side  pocket,  to  the 
horror  of  his  friends — "and  heigh, 
presto !  you  will  find  yourself  flying- 
home  like  a  skyrocket " — 

"And  coming  down  like  the 
stick  !  "  gasped  Dr.  Smelfungus,  retir- 
ing in  a  hurry,  for  the  tails  of  his 
dressing  gown  and  the  gas  retort  of 
Dr.  Skihi  were  in  inconvenient  prox- 
imity. 

Dr.  Skihi  vouchsafed  not  another 
word,  but  with  an  air  of  indescribable 


THE  PHILOSOPHERS'  TOUK.  135 

dignity  adjusted  the  retort,  took  out 
a  cork — and — but  words  fail  me  to 
describe  the  catastrophe !  Before  Dr. 
Mumbudget  could  rush  forward  to 
prevent  it,  the  gas  had  come  in  con- 
tact with  the  air,  become  inflamed  in- 
stantly, and  sent  Dr.  Skihi  whirling 
above  the  heads  of  his  friends ! 

Vesuvius  in  eruption,  coal  mines  on 
fire,  mad  bulls  in  the  full  rush,  and 
crackers  exploding  in  a  barrel,  rushed 
wildly  through  the  heads  of  our  phi- 
losophers, and  when,  finally,  the  rock- 
et-riding doctor  was  discharged  on  a 
hayrick,  the  only  person  who  retained 
sufficient  presence  of  mind  to  go  and 
pick  him  up  was  Mumbudget. 

Poor  Dr.  Skihi !  The  victim  to  sci- 
ence remained  insensible  for  some 


136  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

time ;  and  when  lie  finally  recovered 
his  consciousness,  could  not  at  first  be 
persuaded  that  he  was  not  in  innu- 
merable pieces.  When  he  was,  at  last, 
enabled  to  walk  on,  it  was  discovered 
that  while  they  were  experimenting 
they  had  lost  their  way,  and  might  be 
close  to  home  or  in  the  middle  of 
Kamtschatka  for  all  they  knew  of  the 
road.  It  was  again  Mumbudget  who 
helped  them  out  of  this  difficulty,  by 
speaking  for  the  third  time  that  day ; 
and  this  third  remark  of  the  sage  was 
as  much  to  the  point  as  the  two  first. 
"  Ask  somebody !  "  propounded  Mum- 
budget,  and  after  hobbling  miserably 
along  for  some  time,  this  somebody 
turned  up  in  the  person  of  a  very 
small,  ragged,  dirty  urchin;  and  un- 


THE  PHILOSOPHEKS'  TOUE.  137 

der  the  guidance  of  this  contemptible 
little  snipe  did  our  prodigies  of  wis- 
dom arrive  at  last  at  the  abode  of 
Science  and  Knowledge ! 

As  they  entered  the  hall,  Dr.  Srnel- 
fungus,  with  an  admiring  glance  at  the 
speechless  Mumbudget,  exclaimed, 
"  After  all,  gentlemen,  there  must  be 
a  science  far  higher  than  ours,  since 
we,  with  all  our  knowledge,  find  prac- 
tical life  a  matter  of  such  difficulty. 
Only  one  man,  it  appears,  is  master  of 
it,  and  there  he  stands !  "  and  he  made 
a  low  bow  to  Mumbudget,  who  re- 
turned it  by  another,  without  a  word 
of  reply. 

Dr.  Skihi,  at  this,  glanced  with 
profound  contempt  at  Smelfungus,  and 
gave  a  "  hum ! "  that  was  echoed  by 


138  FUNNY   BIG  SOCKS. 

the  professor  of  health  and  him  of 
natural  science ;  then  raising  himself 
on  the  tips  of  his  toes,  and  seesawing 
up  and  down  at  every  word,  he  in- 
quired, superciliously,  "And  pray,  sir, 
may  I  ask,  in  the  name  of  my  scien- 
tific friends,  what  branch  of  science 
you  profess,  which  is  superior  to  every 
other?" 

Mumbudget  looked  with  a  quiet 
smile  at  the  excited  little  doctor,  and 
replied,  calmly : 

"  Gentlemen,  I  am  the  professor  of 
COMMON  SENSE." 

At  this  reply,  the  learned  friends, 
Sinelfungus  not  excepted,  presented 
a  series  of  remarkably  open  counte- 
nances, as  respected  eyes  and  mouths, 
while  Dr.  Mumbudget  went  on : 


THE  PHILOSOPHERS'  TOUR.  139 

"  Chemistry,  Botany,  Natural  Phi- 
losophy, and  Hygienics — all  put  togeth- 
er, gentlemen,  have  failed  to  ensure  us 
one  day  of  rational  enjoyment  or  ease ; 
for  all  these  sciences  are  pure  absurd- 
ities, unless  they  are  put  in  the  hands 
of  men  who  are  governed  by  the 
wholesome  dictates  of  common  sense. 
My  wise  philosophers,  will  you  come 
to  school  to  me  ?  " 

The  doctors  gazed  a  moment  yet ', 
first  at  the  proposer  of  this  new  doc- 
trine, then  at  each  other;  and  then, 
all  rushing  forward  at  once,  they  seized 
his  hands. 

"  You  are  right,  my  dear  Mumbud- 
get ! "  they  exclaimed  in  a  breath ; 
"  with  all  our  science  we  are  most 
greatly  in  want  of  common  sense ! 


140  FUNNY  BIG  SOCKS. 

Open  your  school  at  once ;  we  will  be 
the  first  to  join  its  classes,  and  cele- 
brate the  triumph  of  Reason  over 
Philosophy ! " 


THE   END   OF   THE   FIFTH   BOOK. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


1975 


n  L9-100m-9.'52(A3105)444 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


AA    000475618    5 


ffiM£M^|ffB«QM|9(KHKflKAKfM|B 


